


Soco Amaretto Lime

by azullia



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Fluff, Gay Sex, Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, lots of songs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 07:40:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 66,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2684732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azullia/pseuds/azullia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soco Amaretto Lime is a song. This is Soco Amaretto Lime as well, but it is a story. The song is not mentioned (so far.) The drink is not mentioned (so far.) How much research has truthfully been done? None.<br/>This is two friends trying to do it all over, and losing track of what it was they thought they were looking for in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Very Important Piece

**Author's Note:**

> This is being posted because of Paige.
> 
> It's a roleplay that was held between me and Natalie that started out as a tiny Omegle prompt (heads up, the first part is kind of stupid.) It's poetic. And gay. These two are roommates. They're both 24.
> 
> This is a WIP to this day.
> 
> And, with all due respect. this can get a little Shakespearean. Very dramatic.

I understood the fact that you find me distasteful perfectly well when you kicked me out, Dean Winchester. Was spray painting homophobic slurs across my windshield entirely necessary? CN

I don't know what you're talking about. - DW

Right. CN

It's a crappy car anyway. - DW

Thanks for that. You won't have to worry about seeing me around anymore. CN

That's probably for the best. Have fun with Balthazar. - DW

That's not what I meant, and Balthazar is just a friend. CN

A friend whom lives in Paris. I'm not willing to learn fluent French overnight, despite the fact that I could. CN

I really don't care, I saw you and him doing... Stuff. Dude, that's wrong. - DW

So wrong. - DW

Perhaps I should have specified that we WERE friends, and I am now trying my hardest to stay away from him because I'm the reason why he is now a registered sex offender. You weren't supposed to see that. CN

Whatever man. I told you, I don't care. You can be intimate with whoever the hell you want. - DW

I don't fucking care. - DW

Great. CN

Just don't bring them back to my dorm. Don't want fags fucking where I sleep. - DW

I'll pick up my things while you're at work so we won't have to see one another. CN

Right, fair enough. I'll see you around one day... Maybe. - DW

Yeah, no. CN

I didn't know how much of a homophobic douchebag you were until now. CN

Shut up, how am I meant to react when I come home to see my best friend being damn near fucked on the couch? - DW

You're supposed to realize that I was trying to push them off? CN

I guess I have to thank you for making him leave, though. CN

Right, so you expect me to believe that? - DW

You seemed to be enjoying it. - DW

Lose this number. CN

Why? Don't want to talk to me because I'm not a fag? - DW

No. It's because you're an asshole. CN

Of course. I'm the one at fault here. - DW

I didn't say you were. I just think it would be better if we didn't talk to each other anymore because you're obviously either angry at me, uncomfortable, or both. CN

I'm not angry. It's just a lot to get my head around. - DW

It's not that hard. CN

It is. You didn't grow up with my father, Cas. - DW

You're right. I didn't. CN

Being gay is wrong. If you so much as said about finding another guy attractive you got smacked. - DW

Well, I'm sorry that you grew up like that. CN

Yeah, well. It's best you stay away because otherwise I'll do something I'll regret. - DW

If that's what you feel is right, I'll respect it. CN

I can't... Be around you. It's wrong for me to be around you. - DW

Why would that be? CN

I thought that much was obvious. - DW

Don't make me spell it out. - DW

I have no idea what you're talking about. CN

I have these... urges. They're wrong. But since I saw you with... Him. They've got stronger. - DW

I can't be around you. - DW

I understand. CN

You do? Good. - DW

You won't see me ever again. CN

That's probably for the best... - DW

If you say so. CN

Fuck sake, Cas. - DW

What? CN

I don't want that. - DW

Why not? CN

Because I don't want you to fuck off and leave me here alone. - DW

You're never alone. You have family. You have your brother, even if he doesn't live with you, and you said it's all you need. CN

I lied. I need you. - DW

That's very believable, after everything you just said. CN

Don't. - DW

I mean it, okay? - DW

I fucking need you. - DW

Okay. CN

Okay? That's all you have to say? - DW

Over the phone, yes. CN

Oh. Right, okay. So I guess you wanna meet? - DW

If you're not too busy. CN

I can make time. - DW

But I don't want to interfere with your work. CN

I'm due a break. - DW

When? CN

I can take one now. - DW

I'm already at the apartment. CN

Give me ten minutes. - DW

Take all the time you need. CN

I'll be there straight away. - DW

I feel like that term is a little out of place, but okay. CN

Shut up, idiot. - DW

Make me. CN

Maybe I will. - DW

I'm so scared. CN

You will be, just wait til I get my hands on you. - DW


	2. Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the only sex you'll see in a while.

Dean crashed into the apartment and slammed the door, shucking off his jacket and toeing off his shoes. "You," he stated as he pointed at Castiel. "You need to shut up." Dean grabbed Castiel's shirt and tugged him towards him, crushing their lips together.

Castiel was in the kitchen, taking inventory for what they would need for dinner, whenever Dean suddenly barged in. He was feeling pretty smug up until this point, in which Dean had suddenly forced them together in a violent way that Castiel was surprisingly okay with, especially considering his unfortunate past experiences. Their first kiss was harsh, but graceful in a way, their lips molding over each other's perfectly and Castiel couldn't help but make a small sound akin to a moan as the effect of it. He found himself draping his arms around his shoulders and pulling the other man closer.

Dean suddenly realized what he was doing and reluctantly pulled his lips away, placing his hands on Castiel's chest and pushing back slightly. "Uh, hi." Dean laughed gently and licked at his lips. "Right well, I suppose we should talk about this and..." Dean looked back at Castiel's lips and sighed. "What the hell," Dean cupped Castiel's face and licked his way into Castiel's mouth, kissing him deeply. He couldn't think about it too much, if he thought about it, he'd feel awkward and uncomfortable. Dean wasn't gay, he wasn't allowed to be gay. But this was Cas, so he could make an exception, right?

Castiel was only breathing mildly heavy whenever they parted, and he listened to Dean closely as he spoke, their positions not changing much. His eyes were a bit wide at this point, not sure of what would happen next. His roommate's breath tickled his lips, and then they were suddenly kissing again, with Dean tasting like cinnamon and peppermint (almost as if he was preparing for this), something that he knew would linger. He had tilted his head so that the kiss could become even deeper, the two of them becoming needy and almost desperate for each other. Castiel also knew that, even with what Dean texted him, he probably didn't want anything serious. It was something he didn't want to think about now, but it seemed all too important to specify. He planned to ask later, he supposed.

Castiel was so damn needy and Dean couldn't help but groan as he lifted Castiel and wrapped the man's legs around his waist, carrying him through to his bedroom. He slammed the door shut with his foot and pressed Castiel against the wall, ravishing the other's mouth with his lips and tongue. He broke away from Castiel's mouth and started trailing kisses down Castiel's jaw and throat. He was sucking a hickey onto Castiel's throat when he let out a lewd moan. Dean should have been embarrassed about the sounds Castiel was able to draw from his roommate. But he simply couldn't find it in himself to care. He could be gay, just for now. "Cas, need you." Dean breathed.

Castiel was wearing a black sweater, one that was Dean's but also one that he said Castiel could have. He was huffing out breathy little whimpers as Dean's lips worked some sort of unknown wonders on his neck; he had no idea that someone could even be aroused this much by the simple act. Then again, he's played things like this in his head for a while now, so the fact that it was practically a dream coming true would be one thing to likely set him off like that. The deeper voice, the previously unheard noises that came from him-- both things drove Castiel mad, almost. The only sign of him complying was the deep moan that came from him in reply, followed by a light nod. "Please." He found his voice to say moments later.

Dean pinned Castiel to the wall with his hips and started tugging impatiently with the hem of Castiel's sweater. He yanked it carelessly over Castiel's head, ruffling Castiel's hair as he did. He pulled Castiel away from the wall and threw him onto his bed with ease, ripping off his own shirt and popping open the button on his jeans. Dean growled as he loomed over Castiel, latching onto his best friend's neck again, sucking a dark hickey there for everyone to see. They weren't to know that it was Dean who'd given him the love bite, after all. Dean pulled off and went for the fastening on Castiel's jeans, not sure what all this meant. He definitely wasn't gay, and it wasn't like they were gonna get together, right? It was just sex. Admittedly it was sex with a boy, but sex nonetheless.

Castiel's hair was already pretty much all over the place by now, so he didn't mind the fact that it somehow got even more mussed up whenever Dean discarded his sweater. The way that Dean had easily got him from the wall to on his back, on top of the other student's bed, was hot all on its own, and he could only watch as Dean undressed, not minding the show. They were friends-- best friends, even-- yet that all didn't seem to matter to either of them at the time. Then, Dean's mouth (which he was slowly beginning to grow familiar with) was back on his neck, and he could feel sweet bruises starting to blossom on his neck. Sure, he wasn't going to brag about the hickeys once this was all over, but perhaps he would just show them off for fun, wordlessly. He didn't want to ruin Dean's heterosexual reputation around campus, after all. He wiggled out of the tightly-fitting jeans he had a tendency to wear more often than other types of pants, and he wanted to say something.. Anything, really. But he couldn't. At least all of this was consensual, anyway. He would count this mentally to be losing his real virginity. To his best friend he's known throughout his childhood and adult life, to Dean. He had a feeling they wouldn't be in a relationship of any sort afterwards, since Dean liked one night stands. With that in mind, even then, he didn't know what he was thinking. Would they never talk about it after? It would be hard to. He tried to let it all happen without thinking too much.

Both the men were soon just in their boxers and Dean was using all the self restraint he had not to rut down against Castiel desperately. He wasn't sure how this had even started happening. One minute he was calling Castiel a fag, the next he was about to engage in sex with him. Dean was such a fucking hypocrite. Wait, damn, was Dean really about to sleep with his best friend? Dean rolled his hips down and the moan which came from his lips sort of answered the question for him. Damn straight he was going to sleep with his best friend. "Off," Dean muttered as he pulled Castiel's boxers down over his thighs, freeing his length and then shifting to his own boxers. Dean was definitely not a virgin, he'd been with most girls on campus, but he'd never had sex with a guy before. He wasn't a fag. So Castiel was about to pop his big gay cherry. "Wait, lube," Dean flew off the bed and ran over to his bedside table, searching through it and finding a half-used bottle. What could he say, he got lonely sometimes. Dean stared down at Castiel with lust-blown pupils. "You gonna bottom for me, sweetheart?" He asked with a breathy voice.

Castiel had a lingering temptation to ask if this was going to be a one-time-thing, but, as Dean got them both fully nude and exposed and then went to go find apparent lubricant, he pondered something despite himself. It was assumed as well as insinuated that they were going to continue living with each other. Did this end up happening to people sometimes? Roommates with benefits? He wasn't sure if he was going to love that type of friendship with Dean, because it meant having mindless sex, or if he would dread it because it would mean for them to never have a real relationship and what came along with that. Probably none of the kissing without explanation, no cuddling on the couch, no dates. Just having Castiel here for when his roommate needed to release urges in between dry spells or short-lived breakups with girls. He wasn't sure how he would feel about that if things would end up that way. Resolutely, he had to think about the present. He licked his lips, looking into Dean's now barely-green eyes and murmuring, "Yes. Please.."

Dean smiled at his best friend before plucking the pillow from beneath Castiel's head and positioning it under Castiel's hips to lift his behind slightly. Castiel was undoubtedly beautiful, though Dean would never admit it. It was admitting things like that which led to Dean getting smacked by John. One time he'd called Castiel pretty, boy, was that a mistake. But thinking about John wasn't exactly the best thing to be doing when Dean was mentally preparing himself to push his dick into his best friend. It sounded crude, but technically, that's what he was about to do. Dean was only on a break, he was meant to be back at the yard in half an hour. Dean popped open the bottle of lube and slicked up his fingers. Touching a boy, it couldn't be that difficult, right? Dean had touched plenty of girls. But this was Castiel. Crap. Dean kept his eyes locked on Castiel's as he slowly pressed one finger into Castiel to start preparing him, he didn't want to hurt Castiel. "This is okay, yeah?" He asked Castiel quietly.

Castiel nodded again, taking a deep breath before he felt Dean's index finger first enter him, and, it took some time to adjust around it, but he learned to take it relatively well, and pretty early at that. He didn't know what it was like to live with Dean's father, that was true. But he knew what it was like to grow up with all of his brothers being strict, homophobic Catholics, and for his only sister Anna to be kicked out at the age of 17 because she was the only one who defended and protected him other than Gabriel. Gabe wasn't kicked out because he had jobs that covered most of what they needed to pay off bills and whatnot, while Michael and Luke covered food and whatever other commodities they needed at the time. The matter at hand, however, was not to be brooding about his childhood. He wanted to enjoy this as much as he could, and was already wanting a second finger in him by the time Dean had brushed against his prostate a little, the sensation being sent straight to his cock, which had been untouched so far. 

Dean slid in another finger experimentally, scissoring them slightly just to try it out. He licked his lips and added another finger, breathing deeply and moving down to kiss Castiel again, pausing before their lips touched. "You want this, yeah? Tell me to stop if you don't." Dean searched Castiel's face for any signs of discomfort or wariness. But he didn't find it. Dean cracked a small disbelieving smile and took his fingers from inside Castiel, wiping the slick on the bedsheets, they needed cleaning anyway. Dean looked at his small pile of condoms on his bedside table and considered putting one on before shaking his head. Castiel deserved the real thing. Dean rubbed himself to full hardness, which didn't take long at all. Dean aligned himself with Castiel and took a few steadying breaths before slowly pushing inside his best friend. What a strange turn of events, Dean found himself thinking. Not overly bad though, not when Castiel was right here and looking so damn attractive. Dean let out a slight grunt of exertion as he pressed deeper into Castiel. Damn, Castiel was tighter than Dean could have ever imagined. Instinctively, Dean placed his hand on Castiel's shaft, gripping it tightly. It would be what he would've wanted if he was in Castiel's position. 

Castiel kept his eyes open despite everything, fascinated by how oddly considerate Dean was of everything he did. Every movement he made appeared to be so thought out and careful, and he could only nod again at the other man's affirmation of full compliance between the two parties. Maybe he just wasn't used to having so much of a choice in this, and for there to be someone so gentle and actually loving as a consenting partner. Dean's real, pulsing cock didn't hurt as much as he first expected it to, possibly because he made his entrance slow and not forcibly at all. A small gasp left his lips, and the two of them somehow retained eye contact throughout (since Castiel was on his back as well). Then, Dean went deeper, and Castiel grunted lightly before a moan slipped out of him. There was a warm hand suddenly on his length, and he supposed it would make sense if Dean wanted to do this quickly. He said he was on break, after all. Castiel made it very clear beforehand that we didn't want to interfere too much with his job. After all, Dean would respect his job at the local cafe just down the street from their apartment just as much. 

Dean stayed still, waiting for Castiel to adjust to the strange thing which had been wedged inside of him. Castiel's eyes were hardly blue at all now, with all of the iris being eaten up by dark, lust-blown pupils. Dean found it strangely arousing. He felt more turned on now than he'd ever felt with any woman, and the idea was a bit unsettling. Damn, he was gay. He was gay for his best friend. Well, crap. Now was no time to be having qualms about his sexuality though. Dean gave Castiel a teasing smirk and then he pulled out sightly, only to thrust back in with a small grunt. He could do this. Fuck yeah, he could do this. Dean thrust into his best friend again, and suddenly he was building up a gentle rhythm without even realizing it. It felt s damn good that Dean decided to screw work, he'd return to work when he was done here. Dean removed his hand from Castiel's hard shaft and placed his hands next to the man's head. "You're so fucking beautiful." Dean muttered as he leaned down to kiss at Castiel's lips, pushing into him over and over, whilst little satisfied grunts left his lips.

At this point, Castiel had been worked up so much that (once the time did come) he would be able to cum without being touched any more than he already has been, taking the thrusts in stride and holding on tightly to Dean's sheets. The bed began to shake a bit, and he loved the way Dean loomed over him like this, kissing back as he continued. He wasn't expecting Dean to talk much at all, which lead him to think that this was more than just a fuck, but he didn't want to get too ahead of himself by assuming things. Gasps from him slowly turned into full moans, becoming more breathy and drawn out as things progressed. If he'd known that this kind of sex felt so good, he would have been doing it years ago. Though, part of him sort of knew that it felt so good because of who he was with. He had an immense amount of trust put into Dean, and an equal amount of attraction as well. So, this perfect mix of feelings and whatnot seemed to pan out well into physical engagements such as this. 

Dean gasped and had to drag his lips away from Castiel's. He swore and pushed up a little bit to get a better angle, hitting in hard and fast now, groaning and swearing and chanting out Castiel's name. His breaths were coming in little pants now and he couldn't last much longer. "I'm gonna- damn it." Dean hissed and had to latch onto Castiel's shoulder, biting gently. He was going to spill over any moment. Just like that, he was. His back arched as he cried out. "Fuck, Cas!" He yelled, forgetting about the thin walls of the apartment. Oh well, it was the middle of the day, people were probably out and about. Dean continued his steady rhythm, trying to get Castiel to join him in his ecstasy. "Come on baby, let it go for me. Let it all go for me." Dean practically growled at his best friend, reaching for Castiel's cock to help stroke him through it. Dean was spent, but he was going to wait for Castiel to finish before he even thought about collapsing for a rest. The second they were no longer caught up in this moment, it had the potential to fall to shit. Dean wasn't ready for that to happen, not really.

Castiel was so close, to the point of his thighs and arms shaking a little, and it was all so overwhelmingly good. "Oh God, Dean, oh fuck." He usually didn't swear that much at all, but this was driving him to doing that. Dean was going at just the right speed an angle, hitting that sweet spot over and over. Then, suddenly, hearing Dean say his name was more arousing than anything, especially in this context. After that, his best friend was making an effort to get him over the edge. He didn't need all too much encouragement, all of the stimulation setting him up to climax shortly after. Words came from his mouth in senseless, breathy babble of swears and 'Dean's, his seed spurting onto the sheets as well as on his stomach. He was still shaking a bit, his muscles having been so tense before he reached orgasm. He was honestly shocked by it. They were both sweaty now, limp and tired from something that he would commit to memory for as long as he could. He regained his breath, looking up at Dean and occasionally at the ceiling above them with his head settled against the mattress. 

Dean eventually slid out out of Castiel and collapsed onto the bed beside him. He bit his lip for a moment, opening and closing his mouth a few times to try and say something productive, but he couldn't find anything, for the first time, to say. He swallowed and rolled onto his side to face his best friend. "I can't stay long." He admitted lamely, eventually. "But I can stay for a while... If you want me to..." Dean looked at Castiel's blissed out face and couldn't help but laugh gently. "Well, damn, Cas. I guess I'm a fag too." Dean's smile fell a little and then he leaned over to press a kiss to Castiel's cheek, reaching down for the covers and pulling them up over them. Dean sighed and watched Castiel curiously, finding it a little easier to concentrate when he could no longer see his best friend's dick. "What happens now?" He queried, wanting to know what was going through Castiel's mind. He saw how there was a slight sheen of sweat over Castiel's face and it made his hair stick to his forehead. They were both laying naked in his bed after having sex. Well damn. All this during Dean's break when he was meant to be grabbing a snack and resting. Castiel definitely was not a sandwich. Castiel was a really, really attractive piece of ass which Dean couldn't help but want to kiss again, over and over. He wasn't sure if Castiel wanted that though, so he covered over his feelings. "So uh, just a quick fuck or..?" He asked, sweeping his friend's hair away from his forehead in a gesture that was much too intimate. 

The first thing that told Castiel something had changed for the better (or not?) of this odd friendship was when Dean didn't immediately get up and leave. He didn't want to be too idiotic and.. He couldn't find the word for it. Cheesy? Stereotypical? Either way, he also didn't want Dean to leave quite yet. So, whenever the other man specifically told him that he could, he smiled faintly, nodding slightly and slowly, at that. The preciously foreign sentiment enacted by Dean, of simply kissing his cheek, made it feel like his whole world had shifted. It sounded heavily ridiculous, for two sweaty, unclothed and fully grown men to be acting similarly to teenagers. Or.. Something like that. Castiel wasn't even sure if teenagers acted this gentle and everything. Maybe they were more like elderly people right now. Which, admittedly, would be a little strange. When Dean asked what would happen next, what would become of them (though he probably meant it in the way of inquiring what they would be doing next rather than thinking of things in the long-term; Castiel didn't expect that from him, after all), Castiel's answer could have been so many things. But he didn't reply at first, only stared, trying to decipher what was going on between them now. He only caved after Dean did some kind of a tousling gesture or something to his hair. He was bewildered by it mostly, but it made him decide to move closer until his face was buried into Dean's neck, curled close to him in an embrace he couldn't put words to. He wanted to make the most of when Dean would still be here with him. 

Dean was a little surprised by Castiel's movement, but wasn't really too upset about it. Castiel was so damn warm next to him and he wasn't prepared to ruin the moment. He'd have to get back to the yard soon, but for now he could just hold his best friend close and pretend that this was normal. If only John could see him now. No, John wasn't here. It was okay to have feelings about Castiel, even if they weren't returned. Dean draped his arm over Castiel, tugging him closer and sighing. They seemed to have come to this mutual agreement not to talk about what just happened. They could just marvel in the afterglow together. "Cas, I'm gonna have a nap, in exhausted." Dean found himself saying, trailing his fingers over Castiel's spine. "Wake me up in about fifteen minutes, yeah? Bobby will kick my ass if I was late back after my break. Especially if he found out I spent that time having sex." Surprisingly, Dean couldn't use the word fuck. Technically, this had been a quick fuck, it had hardly lasted any time at all, but Castiel was his best friend. It wasn't a fuck. It was more, and Dean knew that, somewhere deep down inside him. He knew Castiel knew that too. People as close as themselves didn't simply sleep together and then forget about it. Friends with benefits, no strings attached. Ha, what a fucking joke. That wasn't possible at all. Dean closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to Castiel's forehead, letting his lips linger. "We'll talk about this... Us... Tonight, after I get home for work." Dean slurred, feeling a little groggy and completely spent.


	3. Aftershock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming down from this wasn't something that either of them wanted to do.

Castiel felt his roommate's arm snake around his waist and ghost up and down his back, making him shiver the slightest at first. He wasn't used to all of these gentle touches, especially whenever they were being administered by Dean. This was nice. This was real. He wanted so desperately to talk about it now, about what they were or weren't going to become, to rid them of the tension that was soon to come. But he couldn't find it in him to mention anything, much too tired and relaxed to say much. So, whenever Dean said he wanted to take a nap, Castiel only nodded slightly and hummed a lazy, almost hoarse, "Mhm." He had a good sense of time, so memorizing one and counting for another would be easy. Glancing over at the alarm clock, he let the time sink in and began subconsciously counting. In the back of his mind, however, he thought about how Dean said 'having sex' rather than using any other derogatory term. Maybe he felt like Castiel did about this. Then again, he didn't want to overthink things, so he didn't dwell on it and just savored the fact that they were practically cuddling after having sex. The last thing Dean said before he assumed he drifted to sleep made Castiel smile softly, closing his eyes with his face still nuzzled against Dean's neck. He didn't fall asleep, but he rested, staying conscious enough not to get carried away and knowing that he would take a shower after Dean left again for work. With the fifteen minutes of practical silence he was given, Castiel thought about the conversation they would have after Dean came back from work. He knew it would definitely happen to begin wth, because Dean always held to his word. It felt like it created a drumroll; a tense waiting period to whenever it would finally happen. 

When Dean woke up later, he was a little disorientated and confused. It took him a moment to get his bearings, quickly realizing he was in bed with someone. That someone was warm and solid and smelt freaking amazing. Dean blinked his eyes open and saw dark, whimsy hair which was instantly recognizable as Castiel's. Dean found himself smiling rather than freaking out. Castiel, the guy he'd found beautiful since he was a little boy. No one could exactly blame the elder Winchester for falling in love with him back then. Castiel used to have this cute little face with big blue eyes and a mop of messy raven hair which made him look stupidly innocent. Even now, Castiel looked innocent and gorgeous. Wait a second, falling in love? Was that what this was? Dean was in love with his best friend? That sounded completely ludicrous, even if it was true. Dean huffed out a sigh and reluctantly nudged Castiel slightly to get him to sit up. "Sorry, Cas. I have to get back." Dean told his roommate, yawning and scrubbing his hand through his hair. Dean sat up in bed and rubbed at his eyes, dreading the idea of being under a car for the next few hours when he'd just slept with Castiel and they had things they needed to talk about. "You can stay in here if you want, I'm not fussed." Dean stated coolly as he shuffled out of bed and went over to his drawers, pulling out a fresh pair of boxers and then seeking out his discarded jeans and shirt. There was no point changing when he knew that he was just going to get all dirty and greasy anyway. Besides, it would look suspicious if he turned up in a different outfit to the one he left in. When Dean was done, he hesitated by the bedroom door, looking down at the floor, unsure whether he'd be able to hold Castiel's gaze or not. He was one step away from blushing like a schoolgirl, torn between giving Castiel a goodbye kiss or not. He eventually decided on the second option, knowing he'd better wait to see where Castiel stood on this whole situation. Dean finally looked up and nodded at Castiel, giving him one of his trademark smirks, unsure how else to react. "I'll see you later? I was thinking of ordering pizza tonight, my treat." Dean chimed, searching in his jeans pocket for his car keys. "See you later bab- I mean, Cas." Dean laughed nervously, realizing he'd nearly called Castiel his baby. "Whatever. See you around six, man." With one more lingering glance, Dean was gone. 

Whenever Castiel found himself to be awake, the time actually being five minutes earlier than the amount of time Dean asked for. Despite that, it felt like he had slept for at least eight hours, cherishing the feeling of being in Dean's hold. Unsurprisingly enough, he's felt something similar to this before, when Dean was fifteen and Castiel was fourteen (Dean was a bit more than three months old than him), and they were camping with Dean's younger brother, Sam. Maybe it wasn't in the correct context, because it definitely wasn't post-sex cuddling. They were in a small tent. They never talked about it after, but they had fallen asleep separately that night, and then...

Okay, perhaps that wasn't fully in relation to this. They had just made love. Confusing, semi-spontaneous, but satisfying love. He heard Dean tell him that he needed to get back to his job, and he completely understood, knowing that he would have work tomorrow as well and not have all the time in the work to cuddle naked with your roommate/best friend. He was alread just so well-aware that he was in some kind of hopeless void that begged for Dean, something that definitely wasn't completely sexual. He's wanted just to simply bee with Dean for the longest time now, and he knew it was unrealistic, but he could at least pretend that this was all different from how it really looked. 

He sighed, sitting up and shamelessly watching as Dean got up and got his clothes on. Because, now that they've overstepped some bounary, they could... Admire each other's bodies like that if they wanted to. This was, at least, what Castiel assumed. Besides, it was hard not to look. 

"Okay," he said with somewhat of a rasp, still tired from what they'd done and even a little glad that Dean was being so nice about things. "pizza sounds fine." He agreed shortly after. As he invistigated the other man's body language, he came to see that Dean did look uncomfortable, but maybe that didn't mean the bad kind of it. He wouldn't be able to tell until they actually sat down and talked things out. He also couldn't help but notice how Dean had almost called him 'babe' or 'baby', which he admittedly had never been called before, but he wasn't adverse to that being something new. He stared, not sure what to say to it, though he should've said any equivalent to 'goodbye'. After Dean had left, Castiel thought things through. He had three hours to figure out what he was going to say, though he knew he wouldn't decide on any words until it was actually the time to say them. He ultimately decided that a nap would treat him best, and then a shower and a snack. He snuggled back under Dean's covers, which were slowly growing familiar to him. 

 

"And where have you been?" Dean was startled, but ultimately not surprised when Benny clapped him on the shoulder. Benny worked at the yard too, fixing up some of the newer models of cars. Dean preferred tweaking the older, more vintage cars. They had a system, and it worked. "You're lucky Bobby hasn't realized that you're ten minutes late back from your break, my friend." Benny drawled. 

Dean rolled his eyes fondly. "Mind your own damn business," he picked up a cloth from the side and flung it over his right shoulder. He wasn't about to tell Benny that he was with Castiel. Benny was someone he could vent to, usually. So he may have let slip that he and Castiel had argued recently and he'd demanded that Castiel had moved out. Benny had replied with a simple "that was cold, brother" before dropping the subject completely. Dean didn't seem to want to talk about it. But now? It was pretty obvious that Dean had been spending his break with someone. Those tresses in his hair didn't just appear by magic and his lips were still a little pinker from where Castiel had kissed him back. He was prepared to leap out of the closet just yet, especially when he had no clue if he was gay or not. Who was he kidding? Dean Winchester you're a fucking gay, get over yourself. Man, Dean's subconscious was a moody asshole sometimes. Dean huffed and looked to Benny. "Haven't you got a car that needs fixing?" He asked incredulously, eager to get under a car himself, anything to distract him from those piercing blue eyes he kept seeing, and that flawless skin and the beautiful curve of Castiel's neck... Dean was so far gone. 

Benny snorted. "Whatever, brother. I'll let you get back to that Chevy. But I will find out what you're being so damn touchy about, I always do." Benny trilled. For the first time in forever, Dean hoped to God Benny didn't. 

Dean laid back and slid under the car he was currently working on, tinkering with the machine with his expert, yet slightly calloused, hands. The entire time all he could think about was his situation with Cas. What was he going to say to him? _Hey, I think you're beautiful. I think you're like the goddamned sun trapped in the form of a flawless human being. I want something to happen between us._ No, that probably wasn't Dean's best plan of action. There was a strong likelihood here that Castiel saw that encounter as a one off. They argued, they fucked, it's all sorted. Except it wasn't. Dean groaned to himself as he let his arms fall to his sides for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut. He'd never had a problem with small spaces, but now he felt claustrophobic. Damn Castiel, with his fucking beautiful eyes and cute little smile. Dean knew what he was going to do. Just to be sure, he was going to play it off like the sex had been a quick fuck and that he hadn't meant it to happen. He didn't regret it, but perhaps, if anything, they should be friends with benefits. That way, he could gauge Castiel's reaction before he completely humiliated himself by saying something stupid like he loved the son of a bitch. Which he didn't. Maybe. He wasn't sure anymore. Two more hours, he could do this. 

After Castiel woke up from his nap, which had apparently lasted about an hour, he checked his phone, which was resting on Dean's nightstand. Apparently, he had seven new voicemails. He honestly wasn't familiar with anyone who would want to talk to him that badly, or even have that much to say to him. He sat up, groaning a bit as he pressed the phone to his ear.

__

First new message, from: 620-555-4585.

__

"Cassie! Haven't heard from you in quite a while. I was actually thinking about coming down to Kansas to visit for a few days. Just wanted to see if you were busy. So... Call me back!"

_Message deleted._

__

Next new message, from: 620-555-4585. 

__

"Just me again, Balthazar! Sorry if I'm clogging up your voicemail, just wanted to check if you're free tomorrow. I kind of got excited and bought the tickets! It's gonna be a long way from Paris-"

__

Message deleted. 

__

__

Next new message, from: 620-555-4585. 

__

"Cassie!-"

__

Message deleted. 

__

"Cas-"

__

Message deleted. 

__

This went on for the next several messages. Of course, Castiel thought that he and Balthazar were just loose friends, but he had moved to Paris a few months back over... Something about a job offering and a feud between the British man and Dean. No matter how many times he asked Dean about it, he would never tell, and it was infuriating. Maybe he could ask Balthazar about it when he came over. Right now however, he didn't really feel like talking to Balthazar at all. He was a flirt, and Castiel obviously didn't return those desires.

Now that he thought about it, maybe it was fate. Dean was only interested in one night stands, anyway, or at least as far as the younger Novak could tell. Maybe Balthazar was as good as good would get for him, as far as mates went. As far as a person to spend the rest of your life went. He'd already come to terms with the fact that he was gay, and Balthazar was quite obviously gay, so perhaps they were meant to work out. He also knew that just because two people are gay, it didn't mean they were meant to be. He ultimately decided not to respond to Balthazar until after Dean came home, after they talked. 

Part of him didn't want to love Dean because he didn't want to let himself down constantly, with seeing him come home with random women and wishing he could somehow make all of his problems go away. He felt ignorant of his own, which was okay because his problems weren't all too serious. They could wait. 

So, Castiel then hopped in the shower, taking his time and dragging out a good thirty minutes or so before getting out and cleaning Dean's sheets with a towel still wrapped around his waist. All the while, he couldn't stop thinking about what to say, what to do, what not to do. He hoped it would all just come to him naturally.

"Right, I'm off." Dean said, the second the clock ticked round to five thirty. He had half an hour before he'd arranged to meet Castiel back at the apartment and Dean just wished he knew why he felt like he was about to throw up the contents of his stomach. Dean wiped the grease from his hands and threw the rag to the side, gaining a strange look from Benny. Dean never left on time, he tended to hang around the yard or spend time tinkering on his own car. But now Dean was practically rushing to get away. He wanted to stop off to get a few beers to drink during his little chat with Cas. "I'll see you on Monday?" He asked Benny, not really expecting an answer. But Benny Latiffe was full of surprises. Annoyingly.

"Off to see the missus?" Benny asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Don't think that I didn't see how messed up your hair was when you came back after your break, you naughty man." Benny smirked and grabbed the rag that Dean had discarded to wipe his own hands. Dean scowled a little but didn't reply, shaking his head. Benny had no idea what he was talking about. "C'mon Dean, you can talk to me, brother. What's she like? Young 'n' pretty?" 

Dean finally broke. "It's not... I don't have a girlfriend." He muttered sourly, stuffing his phone back into his jeans and checking his wallet was in his back pocket. "I'm going to see Cas." Dean admitted, knowing that probably wasn't the best move. He'd practically just admitted that the reason his hair had been messed up was because Castiel had been running his hands through it. Even if it was the truth, it was still hard for Dean to come to terms with. Dean had slept with Castiel and enjoyed it more than he probably should have, and now he had to go and face the music, as it were. Dean was shitting himself. 

"Oh." Came the reply after a moment of awkward silence. "You and him..?" Benny left the sentence unfinished, allowing Dean to fill in the blank. This was Dean's opportunity to come clean about his feelings towards Castiel to his second most reliable friend. But this was Dean freaking Winchester. He never spoke about his feelings. 

"What?" Dean crinkled his nose in a feigned look of disgust. "No! That's so fucking wrong. I'm not a queer." He almost spat the word, feeling instantly like an asshole. There was nothing wrong with being gay, he was starting to see that now. But he had to act like this, it was what people expected of him. Benny looked dubious but didn't push Dean any further, watching as the sandy-haired man strode off to his Impala with a thunderous look on his face. Dean slammed his car door unceremoniously and drove off angrily, stopping at the Gas 'n' Sip for a six-pack of beer before making his way back to the apartment, bang on six o'clock. He settled on the couch, deciding it was better to wait for Castiel, just in case he was still asleep or anything. Instead, he sat nursing a beer on the couch, taking a few deep breaths.

It wasn't any much of a surprise to Castiel for Dean to arrive at the time in which he'd held his word to previously. He was good at that-- keeping promises and whatnot. He could remember, at one point they'd promised each other they would tell everything to one another. They wouldn't hide secrets, they wouldn't lie or backstab. That was also when Castiel could remember he wouldn't personally hold to that, because he already hadn't by keeping it from Dean that he really did love him. Maybe then had been the only opportunity he would get, the only window of time where it would be appropriate. Then again, now he knew how good Dean was in bed, and how passionate he was in ways he wouldn't have ever imagined (okay, it was a little bit of how he imagined it to be). The only thing was he never expected it to actually happen. This could very well be the worst mistake he'd ever made.

Gathering whatever was left of his wits, Castiel exited Dean's bedroom, wearing boxers that he was half-positive were his and the sweater he was wearing before. He was still extremely hesitant about the whole situation in general-- even more so, now, because Dean had hours to think about it all. What if he found himself to be disgusted with it all, and he would have to go live with Balthazar? The thought alone horrified him, judging by how antsy the British man already was. His hair was still drying, but was well on its way there, less wet than it was dry. He spotted Dean in the living room, also seeing how he had brought back a pack of beer and was already working on it. Hopefully he wouldn't get drunk.. Again. If he could change anything about living with Dean that wasn't completely impossible, it would be helping with what seemed to be his best friend's borderline alcoholism. It wasn't good for him at all. A few beers along the course of the week didn't hurt, but what he did was a serious threat to his health sometimes. He wouldn't put Dean through AA or anything like that, but he would at least tell him it was ill-advised if he could.

Back to the task at hand.. He was still relatively drowsy, but mostly awake. Good enough. He approached Dean warily, standing near the couch and then sitting, not directly beside the other man in his inability to tell if Dean was angry or not. He wasn't sure where to start, if to start at all by saying anything, and if Dean wanted to talk right now (or in the first place). His throat felt rather dry already, and his stomach was doing things it only usually did whenever he was riding on a roller coaster... Which he made sure not to do anymore for that reason alone.

Dean didn't look up as Castiel approached, staring straight ahead instead. There was so much left unspoken between them, and Dean had no idea how to approach the subject they were meant to be talking about. Dean held a beer out to Castiel, knowing he was probably going to need it after this massive debacle. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and licked his dry lips. "We need to talk, huh?" He offered lamely, finally looking over to Castiel with wary eyes, but a small smile on his face. Deep breaths, Winchester. "I guess you wanna know where I stand, and I wanna know what you think too..." This was stupid, Dean was treading water and wasn't getting anywhere. Dean sat in silence for a moment before swiveling on the couch so he was fully facing Castiel, watching him curiously. Dean cleared his throat and scratched nervously at the back of his neck for a moment. "Firstly I wanna say that what we did... I enjoyed it a whole lot. I mean, I was on a freaking high for the rest of the day. It seems that maybe I'm not one hundred percent straight, after all. I find you attractive - hell, more than attractive. Cas, I think you're..." Don't say beautiful. Don't say beautiful. You'll ruin everything. "You're pretty hot for a guy." Dean finished the sentence, unhappy with the way it came out. That sounded like such a dick thing to say. It was pretty much saying that Castiel was okay, but there were better people out there. 

There wasn't. Not for Dean, anyway. Dean closed his eyes for a moment and placed his beer on the side. He needed a clear head right now and alcohol was definitely not going to help the situation. Dean couldn't bring himself to ask about being friends with benefits, he didn't want that, he wanted a boyfriend. But Dean was the biggest idiot there was. "I don't know if dating is the right move for us, right now, Cas. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the sex, and I definitely don't regret it... But dating is a big step and we have a good friendship, right? I don't want to jeopardize our friendship over a relationship." Dean looked down at where his hands were tangled in his lap and sighed. Why was he pushing Castiel away when he wanted this so badly? He wanted to wake up everyday and have Castiel next to him, and he wanted to hold hands with Castiel and buy him little surprises like chocolates and flowers. Dean wanted to settle down with him. That was terrifying. 

Dean looked up to Castiel and, before he could register his movements, Dean leaned right forward into Castiel's personal space, his eyes still wide and wary as he did so. Dean's eyes dropped to Castiel's lips and then, before he knew it, they were kissing again. Dean pulled Castiel over and onto his lap, tangling his fingers in that mop of beautiful hair again, keeping Castiel in place as he ravished his lips, hungry for Castiel. There was every chance Castiel would never let this happen again after their little talk ended, so Dean was eager to get as much as he could before he was denied it. You wouldn't be denied it if you told him you loved him. A little voice at the back of Dean's head was urging him to do the right thing here, to tell Castiel everything. But there was the fear of rejection, the fear he'd mess everything up between himself and Castiel. The fear he'd lose everything. He couldn't do that. For now he'd keep on kissing Castiel, parting his lips and exploring the wet region of the man's mouth. Though, Dean eventually had to break away and bury his face in the crook of Castiel's neck, willing himself not to cry like a sap. "I don't want things to get awkward between us, Cas. And I definitely don't want you to move out." Dean sighed out a shaky breath and pulled away to look Castiel in the eye. "I want to be your happy ever after, god knows I want to be, but I can't. I... I just _can't_." Dean cleared his throat again, realizing how sappy he sounded right now. "But you'll stay with me, yeah? I don't want to lose my best friend."


	4. Operator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short but sweet.

Castiel took the beer but didn't open it, setting it aside for later. Depending on how this panned out, there was a possibility he would either need it like never before or neglect it completely. Dean's first question was fairly obvious and what he assumed to be rhetorical, so Castiel didn't reply. He just returned what appeared to be Dean's equally terrified stare, as his mind searched for something to keep him from wanting to run back into his room. He still didn't know if he was even ready for this conversation yet. He didn't know if he was ready for rejection. It all seemed too surreal, and Castiel somehow preferred to live in a blind denial, another reality where he and Dean could be normal with each other, and that they could just be friends as opposed to having to deal with this conversation. He could already feel the inevitable refusal and advising of there being any more encounters like the one they had had during Dean's break. But, despite that, Castiel didn't know how much longer he could pretend that he didn't want to be in a long-term relationship with his best friend, whenever he had been pretending for so long already. 

From where Dean started, Castiel almost let himself think that this was heading in a different direction than he had previously assumed. Pretty hot for a guy was a lot, coming from the slightly older man, and he would take the compliment for all it was worth, no matter how much it implied that Dean still liked women more, most likely. He would still pick practically any woman out of a bar as opposed to Castiel. What the green-eyed man had said after, however... That was the best indication that this had all made things worse after all. He could see how tense and awkward Dean was with the entire situation, and he just wished that things could have turned out differently. His heart fell, a lump stuck in his throat, and he wanted to say that he understood. But he couldn't. He couldn't say anything. He stayed silent, a focused, trained expression on his face as he looked down at nothing. 

Then, he couldn't decipher why Dean took this next action. They were kissing again, a useless and broken gesture that wasn't meant to be shared between friends because he knew, somewhere deep down, neither of them really wanted that anymore. And if that was the case, then why did it have to be that way? For some unknown fear of breaking apart because of it, for the fear of the unknown? Maybe it was because they'd already gotten a little taste, and they both clearly liked it, but.. But they didn't know how to proceed, because they were both quite obviously terrified. But Dean was kissing him, and he could gather the necessary functions to kiss him back. He couldn't help but moan into Dean's mouth, because it was something he knew he would miss after this, something that Dean wouldn't let happen. He wanted to make the most of it.

They eventually parted, Castiel almost chasing Dean's lips, but he restrained himself. He had to.

"I understand." He said at first, before a bitter realization surfaced to him and he just had to add something, beyond it being in any sense of rationality. "I don't... I don't think anyone else could be that, then." Castiel murmured in a quieter voice so that there was a chance Dean wouldn't have heard, knowing that his words were true, and he said he can't. But Castiel told him that anyway, thinking that it had insinuated enough for the reason for that to be self-explanatory. "But, I'll stay with you. I don't want to lose you either." Being Dean's best friend was better than being Dean's nothing, so he would take it. Though, if the opportunity ever arose, he would take the risk and be Dean's more-than-best-friend for the sake of happiness, because he knew that things could and would be different. What they had was already different. It couldn't hurt.

 

Dean huffed out a small, nervous chuckle before sliding out from under Castiel and stretching. "Right, I'm gonna get changed out of these dirty clothes into something more comfy. Want to order us some pizza?" Dean called over as he wandered towards his bedroom. Ignorance is bliss. Dean could see that clearly now. If he pretended like they hadn't had sex earlier (and then just made out on the couch again) then technically nothing had changed. Castiel was still his best friend who he admittedly flirted with a lot to begin with. Dean pulled off his shirt and discarded in the laundry, pulling off his jeans too and deciding he could probably get another wear out of them. Besides, it was usually Cas who did the washing, so Dean didn't want to make him have too big of a load. It was time Dean started pulling his weight around here. 

Dean sat on the end of his bed, which he was thankful to see had new sheets on it, and tugged on a pair of sweatpants, paired with a simple black t-shirt. Sitting around in just his boxers would be cruel, he decided. The last thing he wanted to do was dangle himself in front of Castiel like a carrot hung in front of a donkey. Not that Castiel was an ass, but you got the picture. 

Dean returned to the lounge and flung himself down on the couch. He was sat close to Castiel, but they weren't quite touching. Still, it was vastly different to how they usually sat. Usually, Dean had an issue when it came to personal space. If Castiel got too close, he'd push him away and remind him about having a personal bubble of air which he didn't like people encroaching on. Castiel mostly got the message, though looking back on the last few months, it seemed both of them had become increasingly relaxed around each other and the rules had relaxed with it. Countless times Dean would wake up with a crick in his neck from falling asleep watching a movie, Castiel leaning against him asleep too. Dean would then carry the other to his bed before clambering into his own. It was odd, thinking about it now. In fact, only last week they'd both woken up on the couch, Dean practically laying on top of his best friend. They never spoke about that. For a pair of men who prided themselves on being truthful with each other from the moment they became roommates a good few years ago, they kept a lot hidden under the carpet. Hell, they never really spoke about how they truly felt. Two stubborn men, that was the issue here. Still, Dean was determined that it wasn't going to get in the way of a good night together. He was fully aware of the fact that Castiel was working tomorrow, their whole schedules revolved around one another, meaning Dean was able to drop his best friend at work or class and then go about his day. It wasn't that unusual, fitting their lives around each other, right? Nonetheless, he wouldn't get to see him much tomorrow. Unless, of course, Dean went to the café to buy some pie. Actually, that sounded quite tempting, and Dean smirked to himself as he began formulating a plan. Castiel often complained about him visiting his workplace as Dean had a tendency to flirt with the customers and get Castiel in trouble with Gabriel. Though Dean always insisted that Gabriel was giving him the eye. It was a joke of course, Dean had no interest in guys or how those guys perceived himself. 

Dean was getting sidetracked. He set about turning on the tv and then eyeing up the Xbox. "Fancy blowing up a load of crap?" He asked with a wide grin. He just had to act like normal, that way everything would be alright. They could play one of their many violent games on Xbox while waiting for the pizza. That way they wouldn't have to talk too much about the awkward situation they were in. Best friends didn't flirt that much, or kiss, and they definitely did not have sex. 

 

Apparently, Dean didn't get the message. Castiel could now kiss all of their kissing goodbye, because he ruined it. He ruined any lingering, even half-chance of there being a real relationship between the two of them. Not that there was a chance anyway... Right? They could just proceed with what they were used to, despite.. In hindsight, what they were actually used to was spending a large majority of their time with one another. He hoped that that wouldn't end either. Judging by how easily Dean rubbed it off, now seemingly pretended like nothing ever happened, that would continue. Maybe it was for the best. He would still be a slightly depressed nervous wreck sometimes, that would never change, at least. It was something to rely on, in a way. What was he expecting? 

Instant gratification? 

For all of his problems and insecurities to be fixed with a few words, motions and emotions?

All he had now was a sinking fear.

What Castiel feared most would be that he would spiral, because Dean didn't actually want him, the sex was probably a mistake he regretted in the first place, and everything-- including the mixture of chemicals that humans call love-- is a lie.

It meant nothing anymore.

So, this could mean that he wasn't imprisoned anymore. By what, he didn't know. Though it felt like a whole new weight on his chest, of what could have been but ultimately wasn't, of what is and what should never be. Of cafe pies and pizza, video games and accidental sex. New burdens, new memories. Fuck. He just had to move along.

He was already calling their favorite pizza place, planning to ask for what they always got; a medium with white sauce and salami, and a large with red sauce and pepperoni. Like how it was supposed to be. 

"Sure." He said with an easy shrug after hanging up the phone. He grabbed a controller and let Dean start up the system. This could work. Probably. They could stay friends, even whenever there was an obscene amount of painfully noticeable tension when they were that, still. There had been nights of falling asleep together, on each other, with each other. They never talked about it, but he could only hope that Dean held it as close to his heart as Castiel did (even though he most likely didn't). He actually did fancy blowing up a load of crap right now. He was frustrated and angry with himself, and kind of sad at the same time. It would be good to forget about life for a little while, relax, eat some pizza, and then study. And sleep, if he was feeling up for that. He could make this work. He really could. 

Instant gratification.

If he could just tell himself this, over and over, maybe he could move on. A silly dream, a hallucination that was almost tangible. Almost. But almost wasn't good enough. 

All he had to do was play the game.

 

Dean couldn't concentrate on the game at all, his mind and his gaze kept wandering. This time he was freely staring at Castiel, taking in the intense look of concentration on his face as he played the game almost obsessively, as if killing the ghouls on the game would sort all his problems. Dean began to wonder just how long Castiel had looked this damn hot with his sex hair and strong jaw. More confusing still was how Castiel was single. It was like he just didn't want to find a boyfriend. Well, there was Balthazar, he liked Castiel plenty, but Dean secretly hoped Balthazar would never make a reappearance, oblivious to the messages Castiel had received today. Dean's character was killed again (it must have been the fourth time) and he didn't even realize. He'd been off his game tonight, and Castiel must have realized. How did you not realize when someone was staring at you so intently. When Castiel paused the game and met his gaze Dean instantly blushed and opened his mouth to say something, but luckily the pizza man interrupted them. No one had moved quicker than Dean had at that moment. He practically propelled himself off of the couch and grabbed his wallet, rushing to the door like the pizza would sprout legs and run away if he didn't get there in time. 

"Two pizzas, one with pepperoni and one with salami." Chuck said with a grin. Chuck was in Castiel's class and had lived in the room next to the pair when they were back in dorms. He was a good friend, and currently dating that nutjob, Becky. Dean didn't know he worked today, he must have been covering for someone. "You and Cas having a night in? You lucky bastards. I wish I could have the night off." Chuck muttered as Dean fumbled in his wallet for a couple of bills and passed them over to Chuck, accepting the pizza from him. Dean wasn't a lucky bastard, he was a stupid idiot who'd missed his one opportunity to tell Castiel how he really felt. 

"Thanks man, you going to Jo's tomorrow?" Dean asked, seeing Chuck nod in acknowledgement. Jo was having a house party with Victor and some of the others. Dean had been unsure as to whether he'd go or not following the whole Castiel situation. 

Best friends don't have sex. 

Now, thinking about it, it was probably a good idea to go so he could forget about it. Maybe get laid... Dean felt sick. He couldn't do that to Cas. Okay, so getting laid was out of the question, but free alcohol was hardly something to sneer about. "Awesome, might see you there." Dean grinned and shut the door, bringing the pizza back over to Castiel and passing him a box. "You coming tomorrow night? I mean, you don't have to because I know you're working all day tomorrow... But it could be fun, right? And if like it a lot better if you were there, sweetheart." He winked, flirting openly with Castiel and then realizing what he was doing. He cleared his throat slightly and opened his pizza box, inhaling the heavenly, and somewhat soothing, scent of freshly baked dough. Dean could always eat away his troubles. "I'll pick you up after work and we could head to Jo's together if you wanted." Dean suggested around a mouthful of pizza. 

 

Castiel had a slight scowl on his face, his jaw clenched as he quickly killed the different types of monsters spawning on the screen, rebuilding barricades on his free time like how he was trying to do in his mind. Dean kept on getting hit in places where he couldn't revive him, no matter how much he tried to. His score was also surprisingly behind. Was there something wrong..? Perhaps he was hungry or something. He had been the one to suggest playing the game in the first place, so it was all a bit confusing for him. At one point, and since Castiel was doing a sub-par job on his own, he was almost dead and on a much lower round since they hadn't been working together very much. Castiel turned to look at his roommate, meeting the intent gaze that he must have been holding this whole time. At first, he thought he had just been imagining feeling Dean's eyes on him throughout the game. He was apparently wrong.

There was definitely something there. There had to be. Maybe Dean was holding back because he thought of being gay as wrong. Castiel knew one think better than anything else; he knew how to be patient. So, he would wait. He would wait until he was ready to come around. And... If something else came up along that path that they mutually knew was better for him, he would try it. Even if he didn't really want to.

Soon enough, pizza came, and... Dean must have been really hungry, because he immediately practically ran for it. He knew it wasn't the case, but he mentally told himself that. For his own good. He couldn't help but let his eyes roam as he made small talk with Chuck. Now that he knew what the skin under his clothes looked like in more places than before, it was hard not to look. He tried not to stare, however, and turned his head around before Dean could notice (or that was at least how he hoped things had panned out there). He was only half-listening in on his and who must have been Chuck's (telling by his voice) conversation, hearing about some kind of party. Dean's group of friends (that had also inadvertently become Castiel's group of friends as well) were the notorious party-going, party-starting types both on and off campus around this town, and he was usually subject to going to most of them. They weren't bad people, most of them were smart. But, they just tended to drink a lot. He could see how the past-time was enjoyable for most people, but it just wasn't his biggest joy in the world, he supposed. He had yet to find it, and time was ticking.

When Dean came back, he accepted his box with a timid 'thank you', thinking that it was odd to be eating in silence soon after. So, he got up for a split moment to turn on the radio, on Dean's favorite station. A semi-familiar song began to play that he was indifferent to at the time, serving as sort of a background track for them.

"I could most likely get my manager to let me off early." Castiel said, only really wanting to go because Dean was going. He tried his best not to react to the way Dean flirted with him, because he knew he didn't mean it. Probably.

 

__

_Operator,_

_Oh, could you help me place this call?_

_See, the number on the matchbook is old and faded_

_She's living in L.A._

_With my best old ex-friend Ray_

_A guy she said she knew well and sometimes hated_

 

The music was actually slightly upsetting Castiel, but it was better than silence.

 

"I can sweet talk Gabe, he'll let you off early." Dean stated decisively, licking some of the pizza sauce from his fingertips as he hummed along to the radio. He wasn't sure if Castiel was really into this kind of music, but he seemed to put up with it for Dean's sake. All friends did that. It wasn't a big deal. Making small sacrifices for the sake of your best friend. Yeah, it was fine. Dean was demolishing his pizza at quite an impressive speed, having missed lunch because he was otherwise preoccupied. Having sex with your best friend. Dean nearly groaned at the singsong voice in his head. He'd be fine, they both would. Perhaps at the party Castiel would find some sweet guy with an amazing personality who was openly gay and not scared of commitment. Castiel could find his special someone at Jo's. Dean wondered if he was selfish for hoping Castiel didn't. Little did he know that Balthazar was coming to Kansas. Little did he know that Castiel was keeping that tiny detail of information away from him. 

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair, feeling where most of the product that was in it this morning had been brushed out by Castiel's fingers. He was in desperate need of a shower, probably stunk like sex. Sam used to always tease him and tell him he smelt like a walking, talking brothel whenever he came home from a night out sometime late the next day, and that was during his late high school years. His antics hadn't really gotten any better since then. Dean had brought countless women home to his room throughout the many years he'd had Castiel as a roommate. Damn, Castiel must have heard Dean climax so many times through the thin walls of their apartment. Dean shouldn't have found the idea so freaking hot. Of course, Dean had accidentally heard Castiel once too, but it was only when he was alone in the shower, pleasing himself. Dean had only wanted to grab his hoodie he'd left in there, not realizing what Castiel was up to. He never told Cas, he wasn't an idiot. If Dean had stayed longer he may have heard Castiel call out his name faintly, but Dean hadn't stuck around that long. Friends didn't listen to each other as they jerked off. 

No, apparently they just fuck. 

Dean rolled his eyes slightly and sighed. "I'm bored of this game." Dean announced as he pointed towards the Xbox, chucking his empty pizza box on the floor and standing up to turn off the radio, settling back down on the couch and swinging his legs up. He nudged the pizza box on Castiel's lap out of the way with his toes and set his feet on the others thighs, grinning at him as he switched back to normal tv and started flicking through the channels. "Fuck load of stations, nothing on." Dean mumbled as he skimmed his eyes over the tv listings. A documentary on dolphins (if Sammy was here right now, he'd be insisting on that), a rerun of Dr Sexy MD (which Dean and Cas had probably seen considering they had a Dr Sexy marathon only the other week) and a bunch of movies. "If I let you choose a movie, you're not gonna pick a sappy one which makes me cry again, right? Because I'm still not over Marley And Me, you asshole." Dean teased, nudging at Castiel's thigh with his foot and passing over the controller. If Castiel could put up with Dean's music, Dean could put up with Castiel's choice of tv show or movie. 

Whilst Castiel scrolled through their choices, Dean made sure to keep his gaze off the man's face. He was fairly sure that Castiel would find it suspicious if he caught him staring again. Once is excusable, twice is just plain creepy. Dean wanted to ask Castiel to sleep in his bed with him tonight, but that was a boundary he wasn't sure if he was ready to cross. Sleeping in the same bed when there was another one available was just an obvious sign that something has changed between them. It meant they weren't just roommates anymore, they were something more. Only once had Castiel and Dean slept in the same bed overnight, and it was way back in their first year at college. They'd had a small room with bunks (oh, the joy!) Dean had commandeered the top bunk which seemed like a greats idea at the time. Except when Dean got stupidly drunk one night. Then it was a crappy idea that nearly ended in a broken leg or neck. Dean wasn't entirely sure what happened, but he'd woken up in his boxers, spooning with Castiel. He'd slid out of bed before Castiel even woke up, deciding that going for a run would help cure his hangover. That was another crappy idea. Yet again, that moment was never spoken about, even if it was perfectly innocent. 

The pair had so much left unspoken, perhaps that was why their friends always teased them about the 'sexual tension' they had between them. Dean had always shrugged it off, though the tension was almost painfully obvious to himself, and probably to his roommate. They needed to get everything out in the open, but both were too stubborn to make the first move. Dean sighed and shifted on the couch to lay his head on Castiel's lap. If no one mentioned it, it wasn't a big deal. Castiel just smelt so damn good, like a mixture of soap and how the air smelt after a thunderstorm. Dean inhaled and closed his eyes, clasping his hands together as they rested on his stomach. Dean was content like this, and just hoped Castiel wouldn't freak out and push him off. "Got any good movies yet, Cas?" He asked, his eyes still closed.


	5. Before

_But isn't that the way they say it goes_

_Well, let's forget all that_

_And give me the number if you can find it_

_So I can call just to tell 'em I'm fine, and to show_

_I've overcome the blow_

_I've learned to take it well_

_I only wish my words_

_Could just convince myself_

_That it just wasn't real_

_But that's not the way it feels_

The song spoke words that Castiel was too afraid to even think, though Dean probably didn't even notice the lyrics as much as he did at the moment. He managed to eat slower than Dean and not finish, even despite having a smaller portion. He only ate about 3 pieces in total, setting it aside to ultimately save it for later. Probably for lunch, if Dean didn't want it. He didn't even think about telling Dean the voicemails left from Balthazar, not thinking it was even that important. He would just meet him to get it over with and tell him that any hopes of them being together was nonexistent. Because, even if Dean didn't want him romantically, he still didn't want to be with Balthazar, of all people.

He couldn't help but get sidetracked in the way that destiny would pan out. Something told him he would never find anyone as good as Dean that actually wanted to be in a relationship. Then again, the thought of there ever being someone like that terrified them. They'd have to be... More perfect than perfect. Or maybe Dean would find just the right girl somewhere, one that didn't have difficulty sleeping under most circumstances, one that liked going out to drink and didn't give him any problems. Castiel wanted him to have that, too, because that meant at least one of them would be happy. It was better than neither of them, walking around this inevitable conversation at the end of the spiral. The one that would trigger the end of their friendship, because they were both different people wanting different things; Castiel wanted Dean in every aspect, and Dean wanted... Something else. That's the way things were. 

_Operator,_

_Well, could you help me place this call?_

_'Cause I can't read the number that you just gave me_

_There's something in my eyes_

_You know it happens every time_

_I think about the love that I thought would save me_

_But isn't that the way they say it goes_

_Well let's forget all that_

_And give me the number if you can find it_

_So I can call just to tell 'em I'm fine, and to show_

_I've overcome the blow--_

 

Dean abruptly shut off the music that streamed into Castiel's ears and quite frankly made his eyes begin to sting for some reason. He felt like he lost something, when nothing was ever there in the first place. At least he could pretend. Dean was doing so well in acting like they never had sex, anyway. He just had to follow the example. He tried to make no indication of a reaction whenever Dean first propped his feet up across Castiel's lap, mostly going to the fact that it didn't matter so much. It was no sign of intimacy. Just a sign that both Dean and himself were comfortable with interactions like this. It wasn't a problem for either one of them, as Castiel assumed. It wasn't anything to talk about. Not a lot of what they did with each other was a lot to talk about. For being best friends, they were both admittedly secretive with one another. This was, of course, only from the slightly younger Novak's point of view. If that was the way it would continue to be, he didn't see any fighting chance of having anything more than a friendship. He should have been content with that, but something didn't set with him correctly.

"No," The dark-haired man sighed, muttering, "It's all just things we've seen before." The movie selection on every channel must have been cycling through. There would probably only be new movies in the coming month or so. Possibly sooner. He didn't know enough to say so for sure. Resolutely, he left it on Tim Burton's "[The] Nightmare Before Christmas", not paying much attention to what was going on and willing himself not to try to react to the way Dean was now resting his head on his lap. It was beginning to feel like there were mixed messages he was getting here, but he tried his hardest to make it feel like he was just misinterpreting things. But he didn't dare to push Dean away.

 

Dean had a nightmare. He wasn't entirely sure when he'd fallen asleep, but he was so tired he must have drifted off a few minutes after he placed his head in his best friend's lap. The dream he had was enough to leave him feeling sick and angry. He'd dreamt of the party and at first it had started out completely fine, if not a little inappropriate. Dean was dancing with Castiel, and not in that clean, acceptable way either. There'd been a lot of gyrating hips and accidental touches, and they were both enjoying themselves for once. Then, seemingly like everything else in Dean Winchester's life, it fell to shit when a certain Balthazar walks into the room. The images which flashed before Dean's eyes then weren't ones he'd ever like to replay. The very notion of Castiel's lips touching anyone else's but Dean's, made the elder Winchester shudder. 

It was then that his eyes flew open to see Castiel. Dean's head was still resting on his lap, where it belonged. Dean had hardly realized that his heart was now pounding relentlessly in his chest and that his breathing was heavy. He really had been scared by a nightmare, if that didn't make him a sap, Dean wasn't sure what did. Dean wordlessly reached for Castiel's hand and placed it on his chest, hoping it would help calm him down a little bit. Castiel was here and, although they were both doing an amazing job of avoiding the subject, Castiel seemed to care about Dean's happiness. "Cas," Dean whispered, looking up at him with big green eyes. He didn't have anything to say other than that. He was drowsy and bleary eyed, and not really paying attention to what he was doing or saying. That was probably why he decided it was a good idea to reach up and press his hand to Castiel's jaw, running his thumb gently over Castiel's bottom lip, with a look of intense concentration on his face. Castiel was growing stubbly and had a five o'clock shadow over his jaw now. That was sexy as hell and Dean wanted to feel it scrap against his skin, against his own stubble. Dean blushed. 

Okay, so the thoughts Dean was having about his best friend were straying from the innocent to the completely unacceptable and slightly arousing. Dean distracted himself by rolling to face the tv, shifting his head on Castiel's lap to get comfortable again. It was easier to talk to his best friend when there was no eye contact. "Cas, I want you to sleep in my bed tonight." Dean admitted, not saying anything else, just saying it. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with Castiel in his warm covers and say a big 'fuck you' to the rest of the world. What was so wrong with two friends sharing a bed? Dean waited for the answer with bated breath, wondering if he'd crossed a line here. He knew the signals would be confusing if the shoe was on the other foot. One minute he's telling Castiel they can't be anything, the next he's asking him to sleep in his bed. Frankly, Dean wasn't sure what he was thinking. Torn between impulse and what he thought was best for Castiel. A relationship with himself was not a good idea for Castiel. Not at all. 

Dean watched the credits scroll over the screen as the movie ended and the music playing during the credits filled the empty spaces, making Dean shiver slightly. He couldn't go to bed yet, it was too early, but he craved the warmth of his bed. Hell, he missed the warmth of his best friend's naked body pressed up against him. Dean took a few breaths as the realization dawned on him and sat up. He eyed Castiel strangely for a moment, fighting the urge to kiss him again. When had this all become so complicated? Dean stood up and wandered off to the bathroom for a moment, taking the time he needed to try and get his head straight. Unfortunate choice of words there, buddy. Dean splashed cold water over his face and took a long look in the mirror. He didn't look any different to how he did before he realized he was potentially in love with Castiel. He just felt different. He was on a dangerous slope here, drowning in quicksand he had no clue how to get out of. The way he saw it, was that they were so damn close here, like their lips were barely brushing, but not quite kissing. Like they were finally reaching out for each other but they were simply a tiny bit too far away from each other. There was a slither of something between them, keeping them from doing this. Dean wasn't sure if he was grateful for that slither, or whether he hated it with a passion. 

The elder Winchester left the bathroom and stared at Castiel for a longing moment before shaking his head at himself and wandering off to his bedroom. Dean stripped off to his boxers and crawled into bed, pressing himself to the furthest side of the mattress so there was room for Castiel to sleep beside him if he chose to take Dean up on his offer. Dean hoped he did, he didn't feel like sleeping alone, not tonight. Very rarely did Dean Winchester need something, but right now he needed Cas next to him, curled up close to him. They could deal with the fallout tomorrow, could figure out what the hell was going on between them, or they could simply brush it away again. Dean didn't care what happened in the morning, he was so close to walking out into the lounge and begging Castiel to come to bed with him. 

 

Castiel was tempted to fall asleep on the spot, in this fazed world of teetering on the edge of sleep. Dean was knocked out on his lap almost instantaneously, and he couldn't help but reach to fix his hair a little out of impulse. He'd never know, anyway. He was fascinated by the little reactions Dean was having to whatever he was envisioning. At first, he seemed relatively content, either not dreaming at all or dreaming of something very pleasant. It was like that for quite a while before there was some kind of twitch, and his eyebrows furrowed. Then, Dean was grumbling a little bit, frowning and muttering sleep-heavy nonsense. Castiel wanted to wake him up, because he seemed like he wasn't having a very good time in his dream now, but Dean had woken up before he could make a movement. He made it so that it looked like he'd been staring at the television the whole time, not wanting to ask what Dean had dreamed of for the fear that he was already put in an irreversible bad mood as the effect from it. It was a quintessential function of Dean's personality to hide things, regardless.

Then, something gravitated Castiel's eyes to meet Dean's again, and he heard the other man whisper something that was almost a prayer, as if Castiel could do something to help his panic-- the shortened version of his name left his lips. That was all. And, since it felt slightly… Rhetorical, he supposed, he couldn't (and didn't) reply. There was a brief meeting and hand-to-body contact, letting Dean draw one of his palms close to him as if it helped him calm down. He only watched Dean rise from where he was previously resting afterwards, wanting nothing more than to heal him somehow from what he'd been inexplicably, undeservingly subject to. He almost even felt like it was his fault that Dean was feeling so distraught and panicked all of a sudden. A helplessly penitent feeling weighed down on Castiel, a contrite feeling in his gut (or maybe it was his heart?). He wanted get rid of it more than anything.

He was in a bad need of a shave and probably a glass of water to keep his mind clear and balanced. However, he didn't want to move, because they were still so close and now he was just trying to make it all last. Eventually, and despite him trying to keep Dean there without saying anything, he moved away from Castiel, and he let it happen. As unfortunate as if was, events had to continue to transpire. The world couldn't stop for them, and it never would. All of their time was utilized, managed carefully, each moment plucked away from each other in a cycle of borderline desperate greed. Something told him that Dean wanted something to be there, but it didn't matter how sure or unsure Castiel was. Whatever Dean said was what he could solidify, no matter how many gestures they shared.

He didn't know how to reply to Dean's sudden request of wanting him to sleep with him in the cleaner sense. Of course, he already knew what his answer was going to be, but he didn't get the chance to gather his wits to execute it. He supposed he would just end up sleeping with him without a verbal answer. That was enough to have Dean be able to tell that whatever feelings he felt for him were reciprocated. There was only so much he could do without speaking anything. Their feelings made them both become a certain type of mute. That was only as much as he let himself believe and deduct. 

Suddenly, Dean was gone, and he was alone again. He looked at the credits scroll on the television for a few moments, reminding him of the song the two lead characters sung at the end. 

_My dearest friend, if you don't mind._

_I'd like to join you by your side,_

_where we can gaze into the stars._

_And sit together,_

_now and forever._

_For it is plain as anyone can see,_

_we're simply meant to be_

His mind was littered with literature, seeing all the poetry proclaiming love and happiness-- of meaning with another person. An insisted interest, that there could and would be a someone who you could spend forever with. You would meet them, and there would no longer be any misfortune. He could see very well that that was the adult's fairytale. How unjust.

If there was a fight to fight, it would be worth something. After all, Castiel could expect to just meet someone and have all of his troubles just melt away. There was no discovery in that. Happiness was something he had to achieve, not stumble upon. That wasn't how things were allowed to work in his life. Sometimes, you only get one chance, once shot. Not multiple play-throughs. 

He got up and stretched, supposing that shaving could wait for another day and headed over to the kitchen for a glass of water. After that, he washed and dried his cup, putting it back in the cupboard before he padded over to the bathroom to use the toilet, wash his hands, and brush his teeth. It was a common ritual he performed most nights, liking how constant something could be despite the new changes going on in their apartment. New boundaries. 

Finally, there came a choice. Dean's room or his own? Dean's comfort, Dean's warmth, or a lonely, colder mattress to himself? The answer was obvious. He gently opened Dean's bedroom door before closing it behind him, discarding most of his clothes in turn. He then slipped under the covers, laying on his side and facing opposite, away from Dean-- it's probably what he wanted. 

 

Dean smiled to himself as he felt the bed shift. Castiel had taken him up on his offer after all. But there was still the space between them on the bed, a rift just begging to be bridged by something. There had to be an action or even some words which could be spoken. Of course there was, but those words were too much, too soon and Dean wasn't ready to say them. He let out a breath, and wondered if Castiel would feel the hot puff against his skin or not. Dean wanted him to feel it, because even with them both in bed right now, it was awfully cold. It reminded Dean of that time John forgot to pay for the heating in the middle of winter and they all shivered their way through the nights for a good week or so. Dean was cold now, and wondered if his heavy heart was contributing to that coldness. Tentatively, Dean reached out and placed his hand on Castiel's bare back, stroking along the smooth skin near his spine. Castiel never ceased to be endlessly flawless, and it only made keeping his distance harder for Dean. 

If Dean watched carefully enough, he could see where Castiel's breaths were making his ribcage shift slightly. Then Dean wasn't sure what happened, but the rift between them was bridged, for now anyway. His chest was pressed up against Castiel's back, feeling every breath Castiel was taking, taking his breaths simultaneously, like every gasp of air Castiel took was the same air replenishing Dean's lungs. Dean opened his mouth a few times to say something to Castiel. But the right words never came, and any that did simply disintegrated on the man's tongue. He was truly lost, confused by endless riddles given to him by his head and heart. Regardless, Dean seemed to brave enough to reach for Castiel's hand, tangling their fingers together in the heavy silence that blanketed them, possibly keeping them safe from themselves. Dean thought back to the movie, though he'd missed it today, Castiel and himself had watched it before in the past. 

 

_"That chick seems pretty sweet with Jack." Dean had said. "I think they should just get together already."_

_"Dean, did you not listen to her song? She wants to but she can't." Cas had replied._

_"That's stupid. If they love each other they should just get together." Dean had said foolishly._

_"Love doesn't work like that." Had been the response. "You can stumble into love, but it doesn't mean that you can be with the person you love. Love is cruel like that."_

 

Dean understood it now. He understood everything so clearly now. His heart damn near ached from the pain of Castiel's past words. It was like he knew something like this would happen. That they'd be presented with a decision which would change everything. Dean took a deep breath, licking his lips before he leaned close to Castiel's ear and opened his mouth to let out a soft recital of the song he understood so much better now. 

 

" _I sense there's something in the wind,_

_That feels like tragedy's at hand._

_And though I'd like to stand by him,_

_Can't shake this feeling that I have,_

_The worst is just around the bend_

_And does he notice, my feelings for him?_

_And will he see how much he means to me?_

_I think it's not to be._ "

 

Dean sang softly to Castiel, feeling a blush creep up his neck as he did so. When had he become such a sap? Dean sighed and pressed his nose against Castiel's mop of dark hair, closing his eyes and gripping Castiel's hand a little tighter. Right now no one could see them, hear them, no about the intimate moment that may or may not be happening. In the morning they'd go back to being roommates again; the same old routines, the same old interaction. Let me have one night. Please, God. Give me one night. Dean wasn't the praying type, but he'd send a prayer just this once, wanting this so much. He wished it hadn't got so out of hand, that it didn't feel like Castiel was desperately trying to reach out for him like he was trying to reach out to Castiel. Dean was sure the tendrils of their souls were so nearly touching, but not quite getting there. He sighed and kissed the back of Castiel's neck, whispering little apologies against his roommate's skin. Sorry for everything. 

Dean relaxed against Castiel, feeling warmer than he'd been all evening, inside and out. He was with Castiel and nothing could touch them. He wasn't gay, but he had an exception for his best friend. He loved Castiel, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself. He could get over it though, for Castiel's sake. He wanted Castiel to be happy, and that wasn't to be with him. They were the Jack and Sally that didn't quite get to the part of the movie when they got to be together. Dean knew somewhere deep down that they'd never reach that part of the movie. Trapped forever in an endless cycle of longing for each other, drifting around slightly, treading water but not getting anywhere. 

 

_And will we ever end up together?_

_No, I think not, it's never to become_

_For I am not the one._

 

Dean let out a shaky breath and pressed impossibly closer to Castiel, the words of that blasted song playing over and over in his head, making him feel even worse. He whispered one last apology before his body fell limp and he finally crashed into unconsciousness with hardly any warning, feeling physically and emotionally exhausted. But also feeling a comfort from having Castiel tucked up close to him. 

 

Castiel had read somewhere once before that a broken heart in a person can have physical and mental repercussions; symptoms of multiple other conditions. But, if he didn't even have a chance to feel what it's like whenever his heart is whole and heavy with the known reciprocation of love from another human being, did that mean he was cursed with those symptoms from the start? Would he have to live on in sighs and longing? In disappointment, in always wanting no one buthim? That ever being a thing to change terrified him, still. He was stuck in a spot where he wanted to be with Dean, he wanted to move on because he knew he couldn't, and he wanted to stay in this state of friendship for the comfort in knowing he was safe like this. There was no threat of loss. He had also read about certain kinds of animals-- like elephants and ravens-- that find a mate and stay with that mate until one of them dies. Then, the remaining half of the couple is left rightfully mourning for the rest of theirs.

Was Castiel grieving the death of a love that never was?

Possibly, one that never would have been in the first place?

But... How was he to tell? There was always the 'will they, won't they' factor between the two of them. This was, however, a poor descriptor of what actually consisted of their dynamic between one another. 

Suddenly, he felt a warm hand on his back, one that wasn't his. Delicately grazing over the topography. He inhaled steadily, the bed having a familiar, light scent of cologne beyond their time, and something else lingered from when he was here last.

Silence.

A meeting of their hands made each message and signal shared between them more clear. It was like a connection, and Castiel didn't feel so lost anymore. Not for now. The bed slowly got warmer as the were drawn closer together, there being soft sounds of rustling sheets before the quietness could strike again.

Dean had this unique voice whenever he sung, and it wasn't something Castiel had ever previously heard (except for one time when he was drunk and decided to have a little in-home, two-person Karaoke party-- even then, his words were very slurred and he passed out a little bit later). It reminded Castiel of Lou Reed, or Tom Waits. A mixture of both, really. Feeling-heavy and beautiful. He never wanted to forget it.

It was as clear as day to him, and he wasn't sure what else to say in reply. Sally's song had become Dean's song, somehow, it being apparent that Dean must have thought that he could never have Castiel. It was true, maybe the slightly younger man hadn't noted Dean's affections previously. 

But, was that how he really felt?

And then, he was saying that he was sorry. With his arms wrapped around Castiel. I'm sorry. A kiss laid on his neck. I'm sorry. His deep voice was unmistakable. He wanted to say it was okay, so he said it with his hand, squeezing Dean's slightly and rubbing his thumb over the other man's knuckles.

Before he knew it, it had all stopped.

He must have fallen asleep, which was good. He needed his energy to go to work tomorrow. Just like how Castiel needed to go to class. They needed to live their separate lives, together. It made sense. That was just how they operated.

He would pick it up in the morning, he supposed. The words comforted him to an extent, knowing that they didn't have to go on like this any longer, because of the fact that Dean had revealed this to him. But, then again, and knowing Dean, they would. Until the next night, he would persevere. Maybe there would be time in the morning? He couldn't know for sure. He just needed to go to sleep. 

In the morning, he could ask what Dean was so sorry about. He sounded so sincere, and it worried him. 

In the morning.

He could feel himself being lulled to sleep already, partially by Dean's serenade and, well, mostly just by his presence in general. His roommate and best friend hugged him close, and he almost forgot that that's all he was.


	6. Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babe.

The morning came too quickly for Dean's liking. 

Bright rays of morning sunshine flooded the room, filling it with a light which was meant to bring hope and expectations for a new day. All it meant for Dean was the crumbling of the façade that he and Castiel were alone in the world, and that there was no one else to come between them and their apparent feelings for each other, or, at least, Dean's feelings for Castiel. Dean could be ignorant at times, and though he always listened to what his best friend hand to say, he often didn't hear what Castiel was really saying. 

Dean squinted against that sunshine, looking down at Castiel, seeing how they were still clinging to one another like a lifeline. The small smile which spread across Dean's face wasn't planned, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. That was until Dean realized what was going on, and the events of last night came crashing back to him so fast it nearly made him dizzy. Dean added each event, in turn, to the list of things he never wanted to talk about with Castiel, ever. He knew they should talk about it. They should talk about how Dean practically admitted he wanted something to happen between them, about how he didn't think he was good enough, about how Dean was sorry he wasn't man enough to say how he truly felt in the light of day. 

Dean sat up slowly, disentangling their limbs and hanging his head for a moment. He couldn't be here when Castiel woke up. Dean wasn't in the mood to talk about this, and besides, he had to get Castiel to the café. The elder Winchester still planned on stopping by, and definitely was heading to Jo's tonight, if not just to get completely wasted until he couldn't remember his own name, let alone any of the things that had happened between himself and Castiel. Silently, Dean leaned down to press a kiss to Castiel's cheek, wanting him to know he wasn't leaving him in bed alone intentionally. He had to. Dean had no choice. 

Dean dragged his heavy limbs out of bed, drowsy from the slumber he'd had. It had been a deeper sleep than he'd experienced for quite some time, comfortable and warm. Dean knew it was Castiel that had helped him sleep that well, but he didn't want to think about that too much. If he got used to it, he'd miss it when it was inevitably plucked from his grasp. Dean tucked the covers around Castiel to keep him safe from the big, bad world for just a little longer, before tugging on the pair of sweatpants from yesterday evening and wandering to the bathroom for a shower. It wasn't so much that he needed to wash away the feeling of Castiel, he'd never want that, but he wanted to wash away everything, full stop. Dean wanted to feel numb for a few minutes before he plastered that smile back on his face and pretended nothing had changed in these walls. If they pretended hard enough, the hurricane didn't seem quite so bad. More like a rogue gust of wind than a natural disaster that was ripping up everything they once knew. 

Dean stepped into the shower and let the water gild over him, cleansing him completely. His hands were braced on the tiled wall in front of him, his head bowed as he forgot about everything. About work. About stupid love songs. About declarations (or lack thereof) of love. 

About Castiel. 

Dean was blissfully free for a moment, and he was floating above everything. It was like being high on nothing at all. Dean had been high once but that was a while ago when Dean was young and stupid and impressionable. Arguably, Dean was easier to handle during those high school years. Even so, the feeling he was experiencing now was refreshing in so many ways, and he knew he should treasure it, for the moment he saw those blue eyes, he knew he'd be lost again. Not that it was an entirely bad thing. Perhaps things needed to be lost every now and again in order to be truly found. 

Dean scrubbed his hands through his hair, before lathering himself up and letting the water wash it away. He set about the rest of his morning routine, drying himself off and wrapping the towel securely around his waist, so he could shave and brush his teeth. Image was important to Dean, something Castiel liked to point out from time to time, calling him princess every time they were late leaving the apartment because Dean was preening himself in front of the bathroom mirror. Dean would always laugh, because Castiel had a point. Damn, Castiel was always right and he always saw thing how they were. Dean could love him for that reason alone, disregarding his beautiful smile and the cute little way his nose scrunched up when he was concentrating hard on getting a project done. Countless times Dean had watched Castiel laboring over an essay, enraptured by the way Castiel worked. That was until Castiel would throw a piece of screwed up paper at his face and Dean would lie his way out of why he was watching. 

 

_"Your hair is getting pretty damn long, Cas."_

_"I had it cut last week, Dean."_

_"Oh."_

 

Dean found himself smiling fondly as he spat out the last of the mouthwash, and washing it away down the drain. He would make breakfast for Castiel, just like every morning. It could go back to stolen glances and a stable friendship with the occasional bout of flirting and teasing. That's something Dean could cope with. Coping was good, and indeed, Dean was good at coping. One way of coping was through cooking, so Dean supposed that was how he ended up cooking pancakes with bacon and maple syrup. His roommate loved that for breakfast, but that wasn't why Dean was making it. Liar. He was making it because it was therapeutic to make pancakes. Liar. Castiel hadn't even crossed his mind whilst he mixed the batter. If you were wearing pants they'd be on fire. Dean threw himself into preparing breakfast, nevertheless, his Mother always told him it was the most important meal of the day. 

 

The lexical gap in their bond bothered Castiel beyond belief, and now that Dean must have known that-- how desperately he wanted for there to be change now, but he had to have patience and restraint. So, when he woke up next to nothing, he tried his hardest not to be disappointed. There was supposed to be that empty space, because Castiel was supposed to not want it to be filled by Dean. Sitting up and stretching a little, lyrics resonated in his head. If he thought hard enough, he was able to still feel his roommate's breath tickle his ear. He already knew that they would never be able to talk about it. Not even in the confines of this space. Maybe in his bed at one point, but... It seemed that what happened in this bed, stayed in this bed. He wondered if something would ever be able to happen to him meaningfully outside of it. He doubted.

No matter how many times he could imagine there being a different storyline he was blind to, the hidden meanings actually being meaningful, the staring being worth time to linger upon, he couldn't help but realize that no, you can't tell yourself that. It probably isn't even true. He didn't want to concern himself with a sweeter lie. He'd rather have the bitter, confusing, conflicting truth.

There was a distinct smell of sweet batter wafting into Dean's bedroom as Castiel sat up begrudgingly, feeling uncut for work today despite not having any drinks last night or anything. Even though he didn't feel like facing another day of Dean's pretending, only to return with so many mixed emotions by the time they were in bed, he knew he had to. He just had to suck it up like how everyone else did. It was an unusual situation to be in, but it was his life, and he could manage. At least he wasn't being hurt. He was being grazed, somewhat. Grazed by a bullet, kissing the tissue of the first layer of skin and, though he wasn't bleeding, part of him wished he was.

He stumbled out of bed, padding over to the bathroom barefoot and taking a halfhearted shower. He got everything clean where it needed to be clean, and that was good enough. Subconsciously, or so it seemed, however, he used a little bit more of his coconut-scented shampoo and conditioner than usual. It was probably just his arms being lazy and not knowing when to let up when he poured the product into his hand at separate times, but... He didn't even think about it, because it didn't matter. He had no one to impress. He didn't focus on the way his breath trembled a little as he lost the warmth of the shower's stream when he had finished. There were changes in his life he needed to face, even if they were uncomfortable. Even if he didn't want to. Even if it ran the risk of making him hurt.

Of course, he wasn't thinking about the absence of warm water anymore.

More rather, it was the absence of warm hands around his waist, warm lips in his hair or existing near his neck. Not just any pair of hands or lips. Not just any person's warmth. He'd admit it to himself time and time again and never do anything, even while being fully aware. It was Dean's warmth. Dean's hands and Dean's lips. One syllable silent on his tongue.

He'd made it that way.

After his shower, he brushed his teeth, shaved (but only a little bit) got dressed for work in something more casual-- that being a Radiohead T-Shirt (the album art for OK, Computer that Dean had given him) and his traditional tight-fitting black jeans that outlined and defined the features of him (namely his thighs and another department near there) properly. He knew, as soon as he walked into the kitchen, there would be pancakes and bacon on a plate in front of where he tended to sit most days. He didn't know what occasion it was for, or... Perhaps it was a part of Dean's 'apology', but it was good food nonetheless. He sat down at the table, looking over at Dean with an unsure expression. "Good morning." He said. Was there anything else that he really could say? 'You don't have to be sorry.' 'Why are you sorry?' 'You did nothing wrong.' 'It's okay.'

Phrases ran through his head. They were all ultimately useless and therefore left as thoughts.

 

Dean could not have felt anymore underdressed than right now. He wished he had taken the opportunity while Castiel was in the bathroom to duck back into his bedroom and put some clothes on. The towel was usually enough, but with Castiel right there, Dean wasn't so sure anymore. Nonetheless, Dean smiled brightly at his roommate as he passed over a plate stacked with perfect pancakes. Dean had tried hard to make them perfect this morning, dressing the plate rather artistically with the bacon stacked just as neatly and a drizzle of syrup. "Morning Cas, thought you could do with a big breakfast as you're on your feet all day today." Dean commented, looking down to his towel again and clearing his throat. "I know I haven't got anywhere to be today, but I should probably get dressed anyway, huh?" Maybe Dean would be more comfortable once he had a few more layers on. As Dean passed Castiel he caught a waft of coconut, and he wondered if Castiel had always smelled of coconut, but now he was actually realizing it. 

In the safety of his room, Dean managed to relax for a while, taking a seat on the edge of his unmade bed. It was beginning to smell less of him and more a mixture of him and his best friend. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, the smell of Cas was somewhat comforting to Dean. Dean dropped the towel and tugged on a pair of fresh boxers (he thought they were his, but ultimately their underwear got washed together and they tended to share). Dean was quickly dressed in a pair of comfortable jeans, a grey t-shirt and one of his favorite flannel shirts. It was a combination of different shades of blues and he'd be lying if he said it didn't remind him of a certain man's eyes. The certain man who slept soundly next to him all night last night. That certain man. 

Back in the other room, Dean took a seat next to Castiel and stole one of his pancakes, tearing off a bit and stuffing it into his mouth a little ungracefully. "So," Dean said, swallowing down his piece of pancake. "What time do you want picking up from work? I'm free all day, so you won't be putting me out." Dean licked a dribble of syrup from his thumb and grinned at Castiel, trying not to lean closer to get a waft of coconut. Castiel looked a little dishevelled today and Dean didn't know whether to be concerned about it or damn turned on by the way Castiel's hair seemed to be stuck up in all directions. He'd shaved too, which was totally why Dean was watching Castiel's jaw and the way his throat worked. No other reason. Yeah, but wouldn't that patch of skin just above the collar of his t-shirt just be so nice to kiss? Dean quickly averted his eyes and stole another of Castiel's pancakes. He'd been eating as the pancakes cooked, but he couldn't resist stealing Castiel's food. 

There was something hanging in the air between them and Dean wanted to try his best to smooth over it, pretend like it wasn't there. "Someone's smelling very fruity this morning, who are you trying to impress?" Dean flirted. Crap. Flirting was not the solution here. If anything, flirting was bound to worsen the situation by making both parties more confused than they already were. Dean shook his head and chuckled slightly. The laughter was a nervous sound, and suddenly everything felt awkward. The sexual tension had been ramped up a few notches and now Dean was fairly certain you'd be able to cut it with a knife. The sooner Dean got Castiel to work, the better. He needed the apartment to himself for a bit so he could try to figure out the jumbled mess of thoughts currently swirling around in his brain. There was no one more confused at this moment than Dean. Not only was there an obvious sexuality crisis going on, but also the panic of fucking things up with his best friend. Nothing was worth losing his Cas. 

Coffee would be a good idea right now. Instantly, Dean was by the counter again, brewing himself a coffee which he was definitely going to need if he stood any chance of getting through the day. Dean didn't really have a temperature gauge and simply gulped the hot liquid down like he was going to die of thirst if he didn't empty the cup in the next ten seconds. With a cup of coffee in his system, Dean felt a little more alert and more prepared to face whatever happened today. He offered Castiel a warm grin and leaned his forearms on the counter. He was a little nervous about what he was about to suggest, but he went ahead and did it anyway. "I was thinking... And perhaps we could make last night's sleeping arrangements a permanent thing. Only if you wanted to of course," Dean was holding Castiel's gaze amazingly well considering how awkward he now felt. "It's just that I sleep better, y'know... With a warm body to cuddle up to." Dean admitted. Castiel was so much more than a warm body, but Dean couldn't tell him that. At least he was able to admit that they were cuddling last night. Despite people's opinions on Dean, he was actually not impartial to a good cuddle every once and a while. He needed to feel loved from time to time, even if that love was unrequited. "And uh, sorry I wasn't next to you when you woke up. I needed to piss." Dean lied, not wanting to admit that he just couldn't face the night before. 

The night before held whispered serenades and stolen touches that were better kept hidden away in the dark, secrets held by the moon. 

 

"Thank you. That is... Very thoughtful." Castiel smiled up at Dean before looking down at his plate, seeing how much was put into this breakfast. It was a little scary, even, how Dean knew Castiel so well-- he had even put a little bit of the syrup on the bacon in front of him, which made it absolutely perfect. He was infinitely thankful that at least one of them could cook, or else the kitchen would be a disaster every time anyone tried to prepare anything that didn't take more than 3 steps in the entire process. If he could add mentally, seeing Dean in just a towel made this morning a little more perfect, despite knowing that he shouldn't have felt that way. There was so much more left lingering on his tongue to thank him for, and apologize for, but it all seemed so fruitless. Dean would just keep holding him close and then pushing him away by the time a sliver of sunlight would shine through and let him see what he was really doing, and what reality was. He took the blows like he always did, however, and kept letting himself because it felt so good and comforting for the time that it lasted. The good moments turned out to be worth all of the bad... Somehow. 

He tried his hardest to stop thinking about things in the long-term and just enjoy how things were now. 

He was actually quite glad that Dean had decided to put something on after that, because it felt a little teasing to see him in such a state. The younger Novak made sure not to comment on it at all, however, for the fear that it would break their tempo once again. Their fluidity in movements throughout the day. Their blindness to uncertainty. They kept it that way, and for good reason. Why let feelings tear them apart? They were good at keeping them nice and tightly packed away in the crevice of their minds. At least vaguely knowing that the other party had something they were intentionally holding back was bad enough, because then one could easily assume what that thing, whether it be fact or thought, was. Now, they both were a little too exposed for their own liking, and if they could just rip this Band-Aid off quickly, they wouldn't have to go through all the millimeters of increased pain along the way. One or two sentences could sum up Castiel's affections just fine-- that is, if Dean didn't want the full speech. He most likely didn't. Even then, he probably didn't want to hear about it at all, which was okay for Castiel. It shouldn't have been, but it was, going to the fact that they've already gone this far. Why stop? Sure, it was painful to keep going, but it scared him. It was going to hurt either way. He knew it.

He was quite used to Dean stealing parts of his food-- so used to it, in fact, that he usually left parts of his plate untouched for him to strike. It was random, and he could never tell how much he was going to take, so he was always prepared. "Probably around... 5:30-ish?" Castiel suggested in reply to his roommate's raised question of whenever to pick him up for the party they were going to (that he didn't actually want to go to, but it was spending time with Dean nonetheless, so it made it acceptable to him for some reason). He held his bacon in a way so that syrup wouldn't drip onto his fingers. The grease, however, was inevitable, so he didn't mind that part of it. This time, his best efforts didn't stop gravity from having a slightly thicker rivulet of the maple goo make its way onto his thumb and index finger. Maybe he was just too tired this morning to stop any telltale signs of it happening before it just sort of did. He finished the piece in a few bites before licking and sucking off the syrup as best as he could, though he knew he would wash his hands afterwards anyway.

Castiel managed to blush no matter what his mind told him when Dean noticed his especially coconut-heavy scent today. He wasn't trying to really attract anyone, especially when the only person he'd honestly like to attract was a mixture of interested and not interest, or so it seemed, and it was just confusing Castiel too much. So he chose to avoid that question and eat more of his pancakes in order to render him unable to respond in the first place. It appeared to be a good tactic that also allowed him to break eye contact for a moment. Even though he'd done that, the air was still thick with something, and it took everything for him not to do as much as mention it.

After that interesting one-sided conversation, Dean had decided to pour fresh coffee straight down his throat, and Castiel mentally flinched. He didn't know how Dean could even speak after that, but when he did... Oh dear. He wanted to make him a permanent resident in his bed. That would mean they would be sharing a bedroom. They would have a bedroom together. He swallowed hard. 

"Okay."

He wasn't sure what that meant he was also agreeing to, but he was up for that as well. He was almost certain of it. Almost. The fact was, he didn't know what else would exactly go on. He supposed that he would just have to wait and see. That was how most things went. "It's fine, really. I just.. I think I... I had a strange dream last night. I mean, I think it was a dream. If it wasn't, that would be... A surprise." He tried to chose his words wisely to not come off in the wrong way. "A good one, though." He added shortly after. "It was just... You-- you kind of..." Was he supposed to be talking about this? Was this one of those things they didn't talk about? Castiel found himself to just take the plunge and suck it up. "You sung to me."

 

"I'm a bad singer right?" Dean said, not denying the fact he sung a love song to his best friend. "Don't go telling Benny or Bobby, I'll never hear the end of it." Dean teased lightly, a small smile gracing his lips. There was no point trying to pretend that he didn't do it, Castiel and him were both there to experience it. But Dean could try and make light of the situation. Dean wasn't ready to face up to what he meant by singing those words to his best friend, but he still shrugged, happy that Castiel had accepted his offer to sleep in the same room. It was purely platonic, friends shared a bed all the time. Really. "I did sing to you," Dean admitted, clearing his throat, surprised Castiel had brought it up if he was being completely honest. "C'mon, you should get ready, Gabriel will have my balls if I deliver you late to his door. Your pretty face is the reason he sells so much coffee," Dean stated, standing up straight and checking the time on his watch. He offered Castiel a smile which would hopefully hide every he wasn't willing to say just yet.

Dean was good and smiling at people. The phrase 'grin and bear it' was constantly swirling in Dean's brain. He was good at bearing with it and looking like a supermodel while doing it. He wasn't lying about how Castiel sold all the coffees though. On the few occasions Dean had been allowed by Gabriel to stay, Dean had seen girls and boys alike all swoon over his best friend. Of course Castiel was oblivious to their flirtations because Castiel always would. Dean's Cas was almost ridiculously terrible when it came to realizing someone was trying to get into his pants, or perhaps it was just because he didn't want it. Dean couldn't be sure. Either way, he was surprisingly happy with the fact that Castiel never responded to them, it meant Castiel wasn't tied down to some asshole like Balthazar. The further away Balthazar was the better. 

The feud between himself and the Brit had all started over Castiel to begin with. It all came down to Castiel's loyalty to each one of them. In hindsight, looking back, it was unfair on Castiel. The two of them were constantly fighting for Castiel's time and attention, with different intentions, of course. Where Dean wanted a best friend to drink with, Balthazar wanted to have sex with Castiel, which was made clear when Dean walked in on them about to commit the act. Balthazar should have just thanked his lucky stars he was going to Paris before Dean had a chance to beat his ass up. The fact that Dean had found that whole encounter arousing was completely and utterly irrelevant. The fact that it had led to Dean having spontaneous sex with his best friend was also irrelevant... Apparently. 

In Dean's world, it was.

Dean picked up his car keys in silence and brushed his fingers back through his hair. He was going to get a bit of a shock tonight when his least favorite person crashed the party, but for now he was blissfully unaware. Castiel was going to the party with him, not with anyone else, and that was enough for Dean. For now anyway. They'd be fine, Dean will get drunk, Castiel will drag his ass home, and everything will be normal. That was as long as Jo had no stupid ideas and played party games that always got out of hand. Oh well, if Dean got drunk enough it would be fine. "C'mon hotshot. I've got some stuff to be getting on with whilst you're working that cute little ass off, but I'll maybe pop in to say hey a little later on." Dean said, sitting on the couch and pulling on his boots. He was actually planning on working on Castiel's car right now, fitting a new windscreen and giving it a new paint job. He figured it was the least he could do considering he was the one who defaced it in the first place. Fancy that, a faggot writing the same thing on his lover's car.

Cas was not his lover. 

Not yet, anyway. 

Dean was now ready to go out and face the day, so he made his way back over to Castiel. Beautiful, sweet, amazing Castiel. Dean huffed out a gentle laugh as he saw some syrup on his friend's lip. "You have a bit of-" Dean gestures to his own lips before rolling his eyes and chuckling again. "C'mere." Dean licked his thumb, and before he even knew what he was doing, he was using his damp thumb to wipe the globule of syrup from Castiel's pink lip, his fingertips pressed gently to Castiel's jaw. The silence was too loud and it tore through Dean, making his heart ache a little more than before. He took his hand away and licked the syrup from his thumb, eyes locked in Castiel's the entire time. Dean couldn't help if it looked seductive, he'd switched to autopilot mode and was simply moving without thought. It was slightly unfair on his best friend really, but Dean was distracted. If he leant forward, he'd be able to kiss those pink lips, taste a little more than maple syrup. 

But then the façade would crumble and they'd be propelled into that zone again where they weren't quite lovers but they weren't just friends anymore. That was the danger zone, and for now Dean was determined to stay out of it at any cost. It was so damn important right now to make sure both of them just kept living their lives and ignoring the elephant in the room. It would be best for everyone that way. They were both safe and sheltered from the inevitable storm that would likely happen if Dean spoke up about his unnatural feelings or did something which said what he couldn't say aloud. His mother always told him an action spoke louder than words, perhaps that's why the sex he had with Castiel the other day was still dwelling heavily on his mind. Dean caught himself staring at Castiel's lips and inwardly cursed himself. He cleared his throat once more and made his way to the door. "If you're not ready in two minutes, I'm gonna go and wait in the car. You won't want that because it will mean that I'll have the chance to choose our music selection for the rest of the day." Dean teased, swirling his car keys around his index finger. 

This morning had been relatively successful in Dean's mind. Dismissing the almost kiss that just occurred, Castiel hadn't been too tempting and ultimately he hadn't pinned Castiel to a flat surface and had his way with him. Yes, a success all round for Dean Winchester. Now he just had to survive until the party. He could totally do that. Totally, one hundred percent. 

Okay, maybe more fifty percent. 

 

Castiel couldn't help but just plainly smile upon the fact that Dean had confirmed it; that was him singing, it wasn't his own mind playing tricks on him, it was anything but. It was reality, and they were talking about it. Even if it was just for this slight moment. He shouldn't have been overjoyed by the confession alone, but he couldn't help it. "You're actually a beautiful singer." He commented just after Dean was telling him to get ready. He cleared his throat-- nevertheless, there were things that had to get done today, whether he liked it or not. It didn't mean he couldn't stop for little things sometimes, but when was it too much? He could never tell anymore. They'd already made it a habit in interest of each other's needs, even if sometimes they should be thinking about themselves. If you looked at it in Castiel's point of view, the two of them were more selfless for each other than anyone he knew or saw in any forms of media. They cared for each other, and that in itself had its pros and cons. Maybe if he'd just stop thinking so much, this problem would become invisible and eventually just disappear. That was how it worked, right? Some people can just ignore their problems at times and not even let those problems have a chance to seize them. He hoped that could work in his case, especially whenever they already talked about things they both subconsciously (or so he assumed) decided not to talk about ever. Then again, perhaps that would become a trend, and they would both end up happy somehow. Together, even. That would be... Something. Dean's smile at the time could have suggested something towards it, but he was never good at telling if it was something friendly or something... More than friendly. 

He heard the jingle of car keys in the other room, and he knew that he had to finish up quickly or else he would put them both at an odd schedule in their respective internal clocks. One of the great things about working in a business with your brother is that you can come at any time, and he can't really find it in himself to yell at you for it. You end up getting away with more things than you should. Castiel, on the other hand, tried to treat Gabriel with as much respect as he could, because... When he did get truthfully mad, and that was rare, unless they were having a conversation with some of their other brothers (he was always easily infuriated by them, naturally), it was scary. Nobody liked it. Seeing a man that usually held a smile on his face like that was always frightening, no matter who you were. 

The younger Novak had yet to tell him about his close, practically forced encounter with Balthazar, nor did he tell him about his... Having (really good) sex with his best friend and roommate. Those were all just details, weren't they? It wasn't like his sexual experiences held any value to Gabriel's ears. He would just be wasting his time. Then, he remembered-- oh shit, he definitely still had prominent hickeys on his neck from before. Bruises like those didn't go away easily or overnight. If he thought about it, it was actually rather exhilarating to have the marks there, little purple galaxies along his arguably pale skin (he tanned when he wanted to, but he admittedly liked being pale more than he did otherwise). People wouldn't exactly know whose they were, but Castiel knew. Castiel knew very well. This made him then realize that Gabriel would probably question them. It wasn't like he was going to lie to his brother, either. He would just tell him the facts.

He finished up his plate in a hurry, though not in too much of a hurry as to not get a stomachache in the car later on. After discarding his plate in the sink, he quickly washed his only slightly sticky and greasy hands (as it was remnants from the curse of eating maple-syrup-drizzled bacon) before going out into the living room to find his classic black Chuck Tailors, in their 'high-top' form. The shoes were very easy to slip on and tie, making them both efficient and sensible for his current selection of clothing. "If you don't visit, I just don't know if I'll get through the day." He said with a light laugh, his smile resonating with him (because Dean called him cute, but that wasn't what he allowed himself to even mentally admit as to the fact that he liked his friend calling him that). He stood up straight after that, finding it in himself not to need to wear a hoodie or jacket of any kind. The shirt would be enough, he was sure, because Gabriel liked to try and keep the cafe at exactly room temperature (or it would be as approximate as humanly possible, depending on the day and season, of course). And if it wasn't, he kept a black hoodie in the back of the shop anyway. 

Then, they gravitated towards one another in the room again, and he was never sure why, but they did. Dean said something at first while gesturing to his lip-- did he have a cut? Castiel furrowed a brow, but let him lean forward and do whatever it was he was going to. He must have had leftover syrup on his lip, because that's what Dean's thumb came back with, and... Oh dear. Was he just teasing him now? This didn't feel very fair, but he wasn't complaining anyway. He just sort of... Watched, with his heart beating faster. He licked his own lips, completely open for Dean to close their distance once again, maybe in the daylight. Hopefully.

But not.

The thing that Castiel was lacking to realize quite yet was that he had even more voicemails left on his phone today, as well as from yesterday. Voicemails that would have notified him of what would be the oncoming storm for him beforehand. 

(Perhaps it wasn't as bad as Castiel was exaggerating it to be, but... To be fair, the man had almost jumped his bones last time he visited. It was unwarranted, and vulgar, and Castiel just didn't like him in that way. He was sure that if the other man tried, he could find someone who did like him for who he was, but he was just not that person.)

In some way, some kind of twisted miracle (not for him, anyway), Balthazar was already there. 

 

Dean somehow managed to get Castiel to the café with give minutes to spare. He parked up outside and smirked over at Castiel, cutting the engine. "I'm sorry, but I have to come in to annoy Gabe," Dean teased, shooting his roommate a flirty wink and letting his eyes drift to the hickeys he'd left on Castiel's neck the other day. He was surprised Castiel hadn't covered them up, but at the same time was happy he didn't. They were little remnants of what had occurred between them and made Dean insanely happy. They were little marks which claimed that Castiel was not available for all those assholes out there who wanted to take him and have their dirty way with him. 

Not that Dean was in the slightest bit possessive of his best friend. Not at all. 

Dean met Castiel's eyes again and pointed to his neck. "Your brother is going to think you've been attacked by a vampire." Dean said smugly. Dean was very good at removing himself from a situation. Certainly, if he pretended that he didn't make the love bites of his best friend's neck, then they were easier to joke about. The point that they were made by Dean during a moment of intense passion between the pair meant nothing. Dean just had to pretend a little more, and it was becoming increasingly clear that Dean was one of the greatest pretenders. He held Castiel's gaze for a little longer before clearing his throat and sliding out of the car. 

Ding. The cafe door opened and Dean sauntered inside with a shit eating grin on his face. Oh how clueless Gabriel was. He was completely unaware that Dean had done the deed with his little Cassie, and it made Dean chuckle. "Good morning Gabriel, I have one dashing young man to deliver to you, this fine morning." Dean chimed, making his way straight up to the counter and leaning his forearms on it, placing his face right in front of Gabriel's. 

The shorter, golden haired man eyed Dean for a moment before smirking right back at the Winchester. "Deano, I said not to tell my brother about the stripper I ordered for this morning." Gabriel teased, stacking up a fresh stack of coffee cups for takeaway orders. "They obviously ran out of strippers and sent you. A shame."

Dean snorted. "A shame, my ass. I'm their best stripper, and Cas will vouch for me. Right babe?" The words slipped out before Dean could stop them. He'd called his best friend a nickname was hardly platonic at all. Who, on God's green earth, called their roommate babe if they weren't romantically involved? Dean tried his hardest to laugh his way through it, but it only made Gabriel suspicious as he eyed Dean with a muted curiosity. Then again, Gabriel had always found Dean slightly odd. It had drawn his attention to the man in the first place. Well, that and the fact that Dean was ridiculously good looking and anyone found it hard not to stare when he entered a room. 

The relationship between Dean and his little brother had also fascinated Gabriel for some time. There was so much chemistry between the two that Gabriel wanted to hit their heads together so they would figure out what was staring them right in the face. But of course, the course of true love never did run smooth, and Gabriel was forever stuck watching the two flirt and steal glances while getting on with their lives. 

Gabriel huffed and took hold of a styrofoam cup. He filled it with espresso and gulped it down. "Winchester, unless you're buying something, you better leave my fine establishment." Gabriel muttered, passing an apron to his little brother. "It's not that I don't like staring at your pretty face and..." Gabriel leaned over the counter further to get a good view of Dean's rear. "Your fine ass. But paying customers are going to start flocking through my front door at any moment, and I simply can't afford for Castiel to be distracted by your dazzling grin or your cheeky winks." Gabriel uttered, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. 

Dean had nothing against Gabriel. From what he could gather, he treated Castiel well (though Castiel, the coffee lover, had already been told that any coffee he drank was coming out of his pay-check) and was a bit of a laugh. But right now, he hated Gabe just a little bit for forcing him to leave. Granted, Dean felt awkward about the whole 'babe' situation, but he'd still fm rather stay for a while longer and stare at Castiel as he worked. Just for a little while, until it verged on turning a little bit creepy and stalker-ish. 

Dean pouted and looked to Castiel. "Right then, I have things to do, places to be." Dean conceded, though he still knew how to get his own way. "Oh, and I'm picking Cas up early because we're going to a party to get wasted and have drunken sex." Dean winked at Gabriel before he realized how that sounded. It sounded like he was saying he wanted to have sex with the man's brother. To some extent that was true. What? You want to have sex with Cas again and confuse yourselves even more? But even so, Dean wasn't prepared to admit his feelings to anyone, in a jest or otherwise. "Drunken sex..." Dean found himself repeating lamely, a small pink blush tinting his cheeks. As far as cover ups went; that was really damn crappy. He'd just managed to make himself sound even more desperate for Castiel's body. Dean was inwardly cringing and muttered a few curses under his breath. "I'll be back around lunch for a slice of pie and my usual coffee." Dean informed, quickly changing the subjects. He knew Castiel would make him the perfect coffee, knowing just how the Winchester liked it. They were so damn in tune with each other that they were almost twins in the way they connected. There seemed to be some psychic bond shared between them as they both knew the other inside out. Dean knew, at the end of the day, if he was blindfolded and presented with ten men, he'd still be able to pick out his best friend. He'd know Castiel anywhere. "Until then, I'll be seeing you. I can see that you are rushed off your feet with hungry customers," Dean said sarcastically. "Don't work too hard," he tacked on as his gaze lingered on Castiel for a moment longer than was socially acceptable, and headed for the door. 

With another ding, Dean was gone. 

 

The ride to the cafe was silent, more or less, and Dean let him pick the music for once. It was strange, to see these subtle little shifts if the way they behaved and spoke at times. The mannerisms and new terms they sought out, others they purposefully avoided. It was all so tricky, and he knew he wasn't ever going to truly adjust to it. No matter what anything or anyone else told him, he lingered on some words, all of them becoming muddled in his head. Close calls, almost-somethings... What was he learning here? 

He didn't know how hard it was not to look at Dean until it actually became something he had to consciously practice at the time. Avoidance, as it seemed, was what made things safe for now. For now, yes. 

Once the two of them had come to a halt in front of the cafe, the way Dean brought up Castiel's red and purple bruises (along with the way he was just looking at them alone) made a pang of something hit the pit of his stomach for a split second, because it would almost seem as if Dean was kind of, well.. Proud of his work. Like he wanted other people to know that he had done that. It was an appetizing thought, but nothing that Castiel would have the chance to ask about. Hell, even if he did, Dean probably wouldn't answer. If he did, it would be short, concise, and most likely cold.

Then again... The more that he thought about the joke itself, the more he came to terms with that Dean was joking about it because that's what he thought of the situation in general, or maybe just the moment in time where those marks came into fruition. A joke. That just made all of this a little bit harder. He wasn't sure if he would even want to keep living with Dean by the end of the day if this was how he was going to behave towards him. Because, when it came down to it, that moment was surprisingly special to him. To think that it was all just unrequited, meaningless past shit made him just want to slink right out of his seat and walk off the nearest bridge. 

"Yeah... Ha ha." Castiel had a slow, obviously forced laugh at his attempt at a joke nonetheless, before getting out so that they didn't have to talk about it. That seemed to be the solution to a lot of things these days. There was more inexplicable staring that was just starting to irk Castiel with a certain type of frustration he couldn't pinpoint. Potential energy building up inside of him like some sort of angsty teenager. 

The cafe brought an easy aroma of freshly-ground coffee beans into his nostrils, an all-too familiar scent that's grown on him, probably a little too much for his own good. He wasn't completely sure about how Gabriel would react to how he looked today, especially with the added accessory of previous heated makeouts made apparent on the skin of his taut and slightly pale neck. With Dean walking alongside him, a lot of customers and staff alike could easily assume certain implications. Except, those assumptions would turn out to be completely true. Even though neither of them talked about it, it was undeniable. 

If it wasn't obvious enough that Dean had had sex with him, he was outrageously smug for some reason, like the world was just showing a new light on him. Castiel just wished that he could be more clear-cut and to the point with his feelings rather than being so difficult to read at times. Or perhaps it was just him that had a problem with reading Dean's emotions in the first place. He couldn't really believe that his own patience was fleeting, because that never happened to him, most of the time. He was consistently telling himself to wait before, to see if there was a sliver of hope for the two of them. Maybe it was more safe to say that there wasn't, and try to move on. One day shouldn't be the rational amount of time to determine such a decision, but Castiel was tired of it all. Tired of the conflict between their extremely, barely reasonably interconnected lives. He hummed out the tune to a Radiohead song that didn't make much sense if he was thinking in the terms of his current situation. As Gabriel and Dean made their usual, witty banter between one another, he struggled to remember the lyrics. It wasn't hard to believe or notice how integrated music was in Castiel's life.

 _A heart that's full up like a landfill, a job that slowly kills you, bruises that don't.._ Maybe won't? Won't heal?

 _You look so tired and unhappy, bring down.._ Something, something.. _They don't speak for us..._

_I'll take a quiet life, a handshake-- ___

__It almost didn't register in Castiel's mind that Dean had said, "Right, babe?" in his direction. Directed to him. To him. _Oh.__ _

__"Right." He replied with an uncontrollable blush before continuing to stand that idly. Because, now he was hung up on that. Babe. Castiel was his babe now, even though Dean thought that their little fling or whatever was a joke? His babe? He wasn't sure how appropriate or inappropriate that was. Probably a mixture of both, if he was feeling particularly hopeful. Which he wasn't. So he made it a personal priority to take it with a grain of salt._ _

___No alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises, no alarms and no surprises_ _ _

___Silence_ _ _

__Silence._ _

__And then, as it seemed that Gabriel was trying to shoo Dean out so that Castiel could get down to business, he said something else that was entirely inappropriate. He had to have known that Castiel never got overly drunk at parties, and, even if he did, he had enough common sense and brain cells left by then to piece together the sensible thoughts in which pointed to getting a cab and not fucking around with a random stranger. So, by the laws of common grammar consistency and how well they knew each other, it was a little too obvious that Dean was saying that he wanted to have sex with his roommate again. Again. This would leave him muddled with distractions for the rest of the day, for sure. He took the liberty of not commenting._ _

__Upon his little parting speech, Castiel gave him a small smile and said, "I won't." Their stare held for an amount of time that was considered as normal between them, and then he watched Dean leave in an almost reflective and wistful way._ _


	7. Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses do not have to mean anything.

Gabriel waited until Dean had driven off before throwing an apron at Castiel and smirking at him. "So," Gabriel said, raising his eyebrows as he began wiping down the counter. "You two finally got it on?" It was more of a statement than a question. Gabriel was many things, but he wasn't stupid. He'd clocked the hickeys the second Castiel walked in and from the way Dean was acting, well, it was obvious. The two men had ended up kissing at least, he was sure of it. "C'mon then, let me know what you two got up to. I'm assuming he nibbled on your neck just a little bit, so was it a passionate kiss straying away from your lips, or did you two actually..." Gabriel made a little gesture with his hands, making a loop with one hand and pressing the index finger of his other hand into the circular gap. He whistled and made the movement a few times, before picking up the cloth again. 

It was about time Dean made a move, since it was obvious that Cas was never going to make one. It was also obvious the two of them had so much sexual tension. There was a line which they had obviously overstepped, a line where friendship ended and lovers began. No two people who lived together and were just 'friends' had schedules that revolved around one another and what they were up to. It just made no sense as to why they hadn't gotten anywhere. Then again, Dean prided himself on his heterosexuality. Time after time, Castiel came into the shop to complain about the girls which Dean had brought back to the flat. Emphasis on the plural. Dean Winchester was well known for his sexual prowess around these parts, and every time it was with a female. Dean had never so much as checked out a guy, not that Gabriel could think of.Except Cas. Oh God, now it was so obvious. Perhaps Dean was just being a massive douchebag and dangling scantily clad women in front of Castiel because he was trying to cover the fact he thought he was gay for Castiel and didn't want to face up to it. Ha, Dean was scared of admitting his sexual preferences, Gabriel never thought he'd see the day. 

"Tonight, at this party," Gabriel continued, smiling at a customer as they bought a regular black coffee and a slice of carrot cake. He passed the food and drink over as he continued talking to his brother. "You're going to make it official or what?" Gabriel was smirking now. The idea of Castiel, shy, timid, nerdy Castiel, having a boyfriend was somewhat heartwarming. But the idea of Cas and Dean together was downright amusing to the short, golden-haired man. Dean was the bad boy which mothers always tried to get their child to avoid. Who was Gabriel to stand in between true love though? He paused when he caught Castiel's eye and he didn't look too pleased by the outcome of whatever had passed between them last night, or whenever. "What? Is Dean messing you around?" Gabriel looked deadly serious now, propping himself against the counter and trailing his eyes over his little brother. He was fiercely protective over Castiel, someone had to be. "He's not fucking around while you two are together, right?" Gabriel asked, not really grasping the whole concept. They weren't together, so Dean wouldn't have been cheating, even if Dean could find it in himself to go out and sleep with a random person while he was feeling like this. 

 

Meanwhile Dean was back at the yard, much to the surprise of Benny. After a few pleasantries, Dean got to work on fitting a new windscreen on Castiel's car. It was safe to say that he felt like a total asshole for what he'd done to his housemate's wheels, but now he had a chance to put it right. He was just cleaning the dirty fingerprints off of the new window when he heard the radio being turned up, Benny making a point, no doubt. Dean didn't want to listen to whatever crap Benny was blasting and continued working on the car, planning on giving it a new paint job. The current paint was peeling off anyway, much to Dean's dismay. He hated seeing a car in poor shape, considering he kept his Impala looking as beautiful as the day his dad gave her to him. Dean had already chosen the color, but the more he looked at the blue paint, the more he felt conflicted. "Benny! Turn that crap down!" Dean called as the music wafted through the yard.

 

I would not leave you in times of trouble

We never could have come this far

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times

I'll take you just the way you are

 

"Benny, I'm not fucking around," Dean complained, checking the color chart again to check if he got the right shade of blue. He wanted the one which matched Castiel's eyes exactly. He knew it was sappy, but he thought Cas would appreciate it. The last thing he needed was crappy love ballads being played while he worked. 

 

_I need to know that you will always be_

_The same old someone that I knew_

_What will it take 'til you believe in me_

_The way that I believe in you._

 

Stupid songs with stupid lyrics, making Dean feel uncomfortable and even crappier about himself. "Benny, I get it." Dean mumbled, really starting to get agitated now. When Benny appeared around the corner and saw the look on Dean's face, he instantly sobered up a little and looked at his friend with concern. Dean waved him off. "Now's not a good time, Benny. I need to finish this paint job before I break for lunch." Dean said dismissively, not wanting to talk to him right now. He wasn't about to admit anything. With a nod, the other man lumbered away and turned off the music, allowing Dean to concentrate on the task at hand. While Dean sprayed the new shade of blue (he chose Cobalt Blue) on the vehicle, he thought about what Castiel was doing. He knew that Cas and Gabriel tended to gossip together, and he wondered if Castiel would tell him they had sex. Surely he wouldn't, right? Then again, the whole babe situation didn't particularly help his case. Dean pouted and finished off the car in silence. The party tonight was going to be interesting, and Dean wasn't sure if he was going to be able to stop himself from making a move on Cas once he had a drink or two inside him. Maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing, maybe it's exactly what they needed. 

Dean wasn't sure what would happen if he made a public display of affection towards Cas, especially when he claimed that he didn't want a relationship in case it ruined their friendship. The last thing he wanted was to mess Castiel around. Dean had a reputation and he knew that. The last thing he wanted was Castiel to get dragged into this whirlwind with him. Cas is not your little boy toy, asshole. Dean frowned as he finished off the paint job and checked the clock on the wall. If he got going now, he could beat the lunch rush and spend a little bit of time with Castiel. Flirt with Cas, you mean. Dean huffed and rubbed his hands on a cloth, leaving the car to dry as he waved a goodbye to Benny.

 

If anything would hit right home for Castiel, if there was one thing that would strike a fire-starting chord against his ribs and let him smell the ashes of him burning up again, like how he was before all this happened, it would be from music. Lyrics and chords cycled in and out of his head like he was some kind of mental patient with no way to actually make up his own mind on it (well, that wasn't very far off, he admitted to himself... He had to admit it sooner or later for him to gain acceptance of it in the first place, anyway, and apparently). He took the apron that Gabriel gave him and tied it on his body properly, smoothing it out as well in the process. 

Wait a second, though. Was Exit Music (For A Film) going to help him cope?

Resolutely, it was not, but it was also not going to stop.

Okay, what the fuck, brain? He tried to act like his scowl was more nonchalant than anything, which Gabriel seemed to buy. Part of what the scowl also contributed to was his reaction to what Gabriel was saying and doing-- he wasn't surprised by how he'd already figured out what Dean and him were up to. And, after all, there was no point in lying.

"If it's so important for you to know, yes, we had sex." He said with exasperation as he began restocking the straws, plastic utensils, and other items. "I'm not about to go into any sort of specifics, however." Although I've replayed it so many times in my head that I could recite every action committed. 

 

_Pack.. and get dressed_

_Before your father hears us_

_Before all hell breaks loose_

Castiel cursed Radiohead for existing. He tried to focus more on his work's chores. Then, something registered in his head, above the pounding strings of lyrics and consistent reminders of mistakes.

 

_The easiest way to lose something is to want it too badly._

 

This, of course, could apply to practically everything. Sleep, losing your virginity, someone, something. He liked it. He liked the truth that clung to it like barbed wire. His mind continued to buzz, while Gabriel turned on the playlist and connected it to the surrounding speakers set up in the little restaurant on the corner of Bales and Riddick. His day was smelling like cinnamon and black coffee right now, and it was almost enough to help him forget what was really going on in his life right now. What the song lyrics danced around, how his mind even mocked him. He had no idea how this party was going to pan out, either. Dean would most likely be taking a girl back home with him, and Castiel would either begrudgingly follow or stay over at Gabriel's place, if he wasn't busy with something more important. Everything was turning up as more vague poetry rather than straightforward prose, and he didn't like it. 

At Gabriel's questioning of making whatever he and Dean had exposed to each other 'official', he didn't reply, continuing to prepare food and drinks for the new customers just beginning to filter in. Something by a more or less popular band Brand New played over the speakers softly. Something called Soco Amaretto Lime, if he remembered it correctly. Then, upon Gabriel asking if Dean was 'messing him around', Castiel didn't really know how to reply. "I'm honestly unsure. I think... I mean, if he slept with anyone else, it wouldn't be considered as 'cheating', because... Well, he doesn't want to be with me. Not in that sense. Apparently, he just wanted to sleep with me." He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant about it. About the fact that he was good enough in Dean's eyes to be able to fuck, but not good enough to be the one he'd limit himself to as far as sleeping with people went. He could understand the reasoning behind Dean's decision. He was so inexperienced with love, and he was also male, which Dean most likely didn't want. 

He continued to work diligently, part of it being to distract himself from his current problems, and another part from him wanting to appear busy so that Gabriel would limit their small talk. 

 

The drive to the café had taken longer than usual. Dean wasn't sure if it was all in his head, or because he seemed to be taking every wrong turn in order to get there. Perhaps it was a mixture of both, seeing as Dean's thoughts were a jumbled mess of what ifs and maybes. What if he told Castiel he wanted a relationship, maybe it would work out. Then again, it could just as easily come tumbling down and obliterate any friendship they once had. That was a scary thought and Dean was quick to shove it to the very back of his mind. Without Castiel, Dean was a shell of a man. It sounded cliché, but Dean knew it was right. It was those very conflicting thoughts that had him sat in his car, staring idly at the café windows, seeing faint flickers of Castiel moving behind the counter, keeping himself busy. His radio was the only thing keeping Dean company, the music stinging at his heart like a thousand tiny bees. This whole situation was ridiculous, all caused by one stupid moment of weakness on Dean's part. He'd been the one to push Castiel into bed and have sex with him. He'd initiated this whole chain of events. He'd been the one to throw caution to the wind and watch it be swept out of sight, beyond Dean's reach. Dean had tried to clasp at the tendrils of any normality, but it had been snatched away from him before he even so much had the chance to cling to an ounce of it. Dean had been caught out in the hurricane, no escape. He was in love with his best friend and helpless to do anything about it. 

Gabriel had seen the car pull up, but had decided against telling his little brother. Right now, Castiel seemed a little upset with the whole situation with Dean Winchester. He just wanted to sleep with Cas, yeah, unlikely. He wondered if it was worth telling Castiel that he had to go for it, that he had to fight for this. It probably wasn't. Gabriel was frustrated that he couldn't just open their eyes and point out that they balanced each other out perfectly. The rugged grease monkey and the well mannered coffee making guy. It was so painfully obvious, but they couldn't see it. Love really must be fucking blind. Gabriel shook his head and got back to wiping the tables, only looking up when he heard the faint ding of the bell by the door.

There he stood, Dean Winchester, in all his freckled glory. Gabriel nearly scowled at him, not liking that he seemed to be messing Cas around, but he gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the guy with struggling with his sexuality. Dean sauntered up to the counter, a fake bravado he'd mastered from a young age. He had all the swagger of a supermodel, or so it seemed. The lonely boy with daddy issues was hardly seen, hardly shown, hardly even there. Dean leaned on the countertop, waiting for Castiel to turn to see him. "I'll take my usual, sweetheart." Dean flirted easily, taking one of the little wooden stirrers and dangling it from his lips. The taste of wood, mixed with the fear of getting splinters if he kept running his tongue nervously over the surface, kept Dean's thoughts decently preoccupied as he saw Castiel turn to face him. His stomach twisted, his heart flipping manically in his chest. The more Dean tried to deny it, the more beautiful his best friend became. It just wasn't fair. Dean captured the groan forming in the back of his throat, not allowing it to escape from his lips. He didn't want Castiel to know he was frustrated, though he could feel the telltale blush creeping up his neck, blowing his cover. He bit down on his lower lip and shrugged slightly at Castiel, a small smile tugging up one corner of his lips. "I'm on a lunch break, thought I'd come and save you from having Gabe as your only company. I like to think my enthralling conversations are more interesting than his about, what, coffee?" Dean teased, cramming all those thoughts from the car to the deepest, darkest corners of his mind. Cramming, cramming, squeezing them away. It was hard, but nothing in Dean's life was exactly easy. He was used to it. Maybe that was the saddest thing of all. Dean's smile faltered slightly and he looked down at the counter, composing himself before giving Castiel a charming smile. "And I like your pie- as in the cherry pie. That wasn't a euphemism." Dean huffed out a gentle laugh, scratching idly at his elbow. "I don't think it was, anyway." Dean caught Castiel's eye. Green and blue, meeting again. So much was held in one look, one tiny glance. Dean hoped Castiel wasn't able to see to the depths of his soul, because damn, Dean wasn't sure what was lurking in there at the moment. 

 

There was the occasional commentary made by Gabe throughout the fast-paced morning, although Castiel didn't struggle as much to keep up anymore. It was more therapeutic than not right now-- working, that is. A tiny warmth that never crowded or suffocated him too much. There were no real long-term deadlines, and there were very few things to really fear. As far as jobs went, and no matter how short-term it was in all actuality, Castiel enjoyed working here the most. And with a familiar face, too. He couldn't be more lucky, more blessed to have such understanding people in his life, even if there weren't as many as a conventional family would have. He just couldn't piece together what was missing. Sure, people lived without romance. They did it all the time, even if the blue-eyed man would never know what it was exactly for. From what he could assume, it was because they never bothered soul-searching, or looking for the right person for them. Maybe he felt a lingering gap in his psyche because he had access to someone, or something, that could change his life for the better, but he was neglecting to acknowledge it as something that he could have currently. Maybe it wasn't that-- maybe he was just so subconsciously discontent with not having any true romance right now that his mind was insisting that he should change that, and therefore making him psychologically, emotionally pay as a result. Then again, that would be silly to think, wouldn't it? People didn't need that kind of thing for themselves. Though, sometimes, people needed other people. As ridiculous as he would like to think of it, it was true. Codependency loomed over the human race, whether it be purely friendly, platonic, sexual, romantic, or all of those... Or, other times, none of them. Like many people in their early twenties, Castiel found himself trying to decipher what he really wanted out of life. He was just afraid to think that that would turn out to be something, or someone, unobtainable. He wanted Dean, of course. Painfully obviously. Dean, on the other hand, sometimes made it seem as if he couldn't care any less if Castiel was by his side or not. Other times, there would be flickers of lukewarm doubt settled and then temporarily cemented in Castiel's head, telling him that, oh, is there something going on here? Is there a chance of a spark? And then, the thought left as fast as it came to him, as soon as their eyes became disconnected.

Similar to how it had happened just then, when Dean came out of seemingly nowhere in request of something to drink.The usual, as Castiel heard it, was something too specific and just a tad 'girly' to be reiterated every time Dean wanted it. Needless to say, it wasn't just a black coffee. He didn't even think that there was a real name for it. There didn't need to be-- it wasn't like he'd ever make the drink for anyone other than him. He pretended that the sweetheart part never happened in real life, and registered it in a separate nook of his mind where everything was as he wanted it to be. "Alright, one of the usual, and.." He paused for a moment, their eyes meeting once again as if it was like the sun peeking out of the haze on a cloudy day, for just a split moment.. There was clarity. He licked his lips. "And a slice of cherry pie. Okay." He got to business on that, getting out a cup and turning on the coffee maker. While the machine was working its magic, he counted in his head while he cut a piece of pie until it hit the precise time in which was required for the usual. He tried not to look back up at Dean unless it was entirely necessary, going to the fact that it was hard to look away. There was a slight calm in his movements, after accenting the pie with just the right amount of whipped cream, a small drizzle of caramel and some sea salt to top it all off, just before he needed to stop the grinder. His eyes flicked up and caught a glimpse of Dean, and he couldn't help his smile. A couple of minutes later, he presented the food and drink in front of him with the light reminder of, "Be careful, it's hot."

 

Dean couldn't help himself. "Yes, yes you are." He flirted, fully aware that friends didn't call each other hot, that was just odd and slightly awkward. Dean stuck his finger in the whipped cream and licked it off slowly, savoring the taste. The sweetness teased his tastebuds and he let out the smallest of moans. Damn, pie was the one thing that made everything better, Dean decided. He loved watching the way Castiel moved behind the counter, knowing exactly where everything was and how everything should be. There was something oddly beautiful and graceful about his movements, but then, Cas was just moving normally. Perhaps that meant Castiel had always moved with this beautiful fluidity, but Dean had never realized it until now. Perhaps that was because Dean was full on staring at Castiel without noticing what he was doing. He hadn't moved from the counter, staring like Castiel hung the damn stars in the sky. That moment was quickly shattered when Gabriel cleared his throat and shoved Dean unceremoniously out of the way to wipe down the counter. Apparently it needed to be cleaned at that exact moment. More likely an explanation was that Gabriel didn't like how Dean was pining over his little brother when Cas wasn't even out of reach. Little did Gabriel know that Cas, to Dean, was like that piece of forbidden fruit. Sure, Dean had taken a bite and found that Castiel was more than a little delicious, he was downright heavenly, but that didn't mean he was allowed him. There was a difference between wanting something and being able to have them, and Dean had swiftly denied himself Castiel. He'd managed to convince himself that he was the poison that turned everything sour, which killed everything good with a single touch of his calloused fingers. He pouted at Gabriel anyway, annoyed that he'd jostled him out of a nice little daydream involving himself and Cas and, well... Minimal amounts of clothing. It was enough to make his muscles below his belt twitch, much to Dean's embarrassment. He cleared his throat and shot a glower at Gabriel before sitting up on the counter and sliding over it to come face to face with Castiel, cramming them close in the small space behind the assortment of pies and the grumbling coffee grinders. He didn't even bat an eyelid as he brushed last Castiel. Dammit, he probably just felt your boner, smooth. Dean was a bit like a duck; smooth on the surface while he paddled manically underneath the water. Dean was certain this was going to piss Gabe off, but hell, he didn't mind that. Riling up the shorter man was one of the things in life that Dean lived for. It was fun having Gabriel glare at him like he'd personally offended him. Dean cut off a piece of pie with his fork as he leaned against the back wall and tried to forget about rubbing himself against his best friend. "I've been busy all morning," he said instead. "I've been at the yard, even on my day off. Benny thought I'd gone insane, turns out I'm just a little crazy. Not that it's a bad thing to be a little mentally unstable, right? I mean," Dean took another large bite of pie. "I didn't see you complaining about it the other day." Dean said with a knowing smile on his face. The other day, when everything shifted and Dean's whole world changed ever so slightly. The moment he experienced a moment of intense passion with his messy haired friend. The memory was strong, and a good one too. Dean wondered idly for a moment if Cas had been on his break yet. Without thinking about it too much, he reached for Castiel's hand and tugged him towards him. He propped a bit of pie on the end of the fork and held it out to Castiel, not caring that they were in a public space and this was hardly platonic. Or was it? Dean wasn't entirely sure what was classed as a socially acceptable way to act, seeing as he wasn't really one who liked following the rules. Even so, he refused to budge or let go of Castiel's hand until the piece of pie had been eaten from the fork. His eyes were intense as they watched Castiel like a damn hawk. But there was something else hidden behind the look he was giving Cas. Lust, perhaps? It would make sense considering Dean's now obvious boner. No, it was something more. Dean wanted more. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but he couldn't, so he stared lamely instead, shifting as his pants got a little uncomfortable. Castiel was too close, this was a mistake. Dean shouldn't have thrown himself in the deep end when he was barely able to paddle. He took a shaky breath and looked away, dropping Castiel's hand and blushing violently. He hoped to god that Castiel wasn't curious enough to ask questions, or worse, look down and see Dean's arousal. Dean was willing his body to settle down, for the heat bubbling under his skin to stop and simmer down slightly, just enough to make it less obvious. After a moment of thinking gross thoughts, Dean looked over Castiel's shoulder to see a customer waiting. "You've come to the best café in the state, my friend here makes a perfect coffee, ain't that right Cas?" Dean said, offering a charming smile as he patted Castiel's rear, signalling that he should get back to work. Dean could wait. Sure, he was impatient and would grumble about it, but Cas needed to do his job. Dean never got pestered by Cas when he was working with parts of car engines back at the apartment, or was actually doing paperwork (it made a nice change every once and a while- Dean had always been more hands on with his work). Dean figured he owed Castiel the same respect as he sipped his coffee silently from the back of the staff area. Gabriel was still giving him the stink eye for being somewhere he shouldn't be, but Dean was a little stuck at the moment. The second he stepped it from behind the counter, everyone would be able to see just how happy he was to see Cas. So for the time being, Dean was staying put. 

 

Castiel tried his hardest not to stay transfixed on the way that Dean's tongue swirled around his finger, directly after he had quite blatantly flirted with Castiel. He didn't know how to feel about this. Part of him, really, wasn't very far from becoming aroused in a way that people could definitely detect. He wasn't anticipating on that happening any time soon, however, so he subtly willed himself away from even the temptation of it. He then realized that, oh, this wasn't just going to be a quick fuck. The fine difference between a quick fuck and something that wasn't a quick fuck was that both parties participating aren't seeing each other around anywhere afterwards. There was no way of that rule ever applying to Castiel and Dean, because they saw each other at least once every day. This time, this rule surely applied to both of them-- there was no way of Castiel being unsure of it being just him. He felt Dean's eyes on him, almost as if they were both just eyeing each other helplessly, stranded in this sudden dry spell. Apparently, sex between them needed some regulation, or else they would both act like this. It made him wonder... If it had happened last time out of an apology, what could the cover-up be this time? Another apology? A thank-you? He was sure that they wouldn't discuss it, but it was only then that he idly noticed the fact that he was actually thinking about this. A lot. He couldn't help the blush that embraced both his cheeks as if the sting was gripping him, telling him to get a hold of himself. He was trying, believe him. He wasn't sure how he felt about himself being the subject of Dean's spaced-out gaze. It made him want to question what was going through that man's head right now-- was he thinking about how Castiel was in bed, or how good he made coffee? That was something he couldn't answer without somehow getting into the older Winchester's mind in one way or another. It was unfair, to think that there was no way of knowing unless he asked, and he was bad at asking for things. Whether it be someone's help, their opinion, or even to move out of the way, he'd been difficult with doing things like that. 

Then, out of nowhere (although, seeing their dynamic, it was actually inevitable), Gabriel pushed Dean out of the way in a graceful-ish way, so that Dean found it necessary to move beside Castiel instead. His best friend and his brother always had this interesting, commonly pseudo-aggressive back-and-forth way of figuring things out between one another. It was laughable, but also slightly concerning, because... If Castiel were to find out a way in which he and Dean would date, how would the family dinners turn out? In childish food fights? He'd imagine it to be so, because, he could face it-- anything that had to do with him and Dean having a stable, healthy, real relationship only existed in his dreams. Nevertheless, it would be quite the picture. 

Right now, it would be presented to Castiel as if Gabriel was angry at Dean for something beyond either of their control right now-- he must have been disgruntled about the way that Dean was treating what they had committed and consented to yesterday. It was Castiel's fault for agreeing to it in the first place, and then thinking that things between them would change for the better after. But, no, all he got out of it was a lengthy afterglow, a nap in Dean's bed, and bruises on his neck. Which, might he add mentally, he was confused as to why Dean would have done that in the first place if he didn't want everyone Castiel walked by to know that he was having someone make out with him not too long ago. As conflicting as that was, the young Novak didn't not like it.

He was quickly brought back down to Earth after feeling something brush past him-- okay, that was Dean. He knew this because of his distinct smell-- it was unmistakable for Castiel. But, something different about the whole moment, the whole ordeal, that made him blush a little more than before, was... Okay, as many times as he played the few seconds in his mind over, he was becoming increasingly certain that he felt something else. Not an emotional feeling, but a physical one. He looked over at Dean with a certain sense of hesitant sureness. What happened next, it wasn't something he'd anticipated at first. He wasn't thinking that Dean would make another reference towards the night before, and he also most definitely wasn't expecting Dean to pull him closer by his hand, turning him around and facing that other man. Then, there was a pause, and a hand was extended near Castiel's mouth, holding a forkful of pie. Castiel could easily assume what the man wanted him to do. There they were, with Cas being practically right against him. He could feel the other man's problem better than ever now, and it admittedly made him a little excited himself. Right after he'd withdrawn his mouth from the fork, his eyes flicked down quickly south. When he looked back up, he could confirm his suspicions. Afterwards, the moment fled, bringing on the next, and Castiel took a deep, anchoring breath. A hand surely intentionally made a motion at his ass as Dean convinced a customer that Castiel was a great cook. In all honesty, coffee was the only thing he was okay at making. Gabriel either made the pastries himself or ordered them-- he couldn't trust his brother with that task, seeing as he could barely even use a toaster. 

He tried to focus more on work than on how Dean was looming right behind him. He laughed a little, blushing deeply beyond his own belief. "What can I get you?" "Um, just a small Chai latte, hold the cinnamon." Easy enough. Castiel got right to it, turning to the shelves of supplies he had available to him. He didn't necessarily want to ignore Dean, though he knew if he did just that, it would make everything harder.

 

Dean shamelessly watched Castiel's rear as he set about making that chai latte. Dean couldn't be bothered with all that crap, what was wrong with a good, old fashioned black coffee? Dean looked away and back to his pie when he figured that the whole staring thing was getting a little creepy. It was easier focusing on the pie than it was wondering what Castiel was thinking. By now, Dean was fairly certain that Cas had seen his bulging jeans, and he couldn't help but be embarrassed about it. This whole thing would never have happened if Dean had taken a moment to talk out his issues with Cas instead of whipping his dick out at the first opportunity. Now that- that was something Dean was very good at. Dean deserved a little recognition for how quickly he could get someone into his bed and stripped naked. Of course, that didn't necessarily mean that Dean was proud of how he'd bedded Castiel in record time without any resistance from Cas. It just meant he was used to getting his way and now, because of it, he was tiptoeing around Castiel like he was some sleeping lion he couldn't afford to awaken. Dean chewed on his pie slowly and watched the retreating form of another satisfied customer. He hadn't liked how the girl had looked at Castiel with those curious eyes. They were eyes full of lust and want, and all Dean could think was mineminemine. That girl must not have seen the bruises on Castiel's neck, and Dean made a mental note to leave bigger, darker, more obvious ones next time. There he went again; next time. As if there was going to be an opportunity for them to be that damn intimate ever again without copious amounts of alcohol in Dean's system, or perhaps even Castiel's. 

Dean rolled his fork idly between his fingers, long after he'd finished his pie, and hummed gently. He should be getting back to his best friend's car. The new paintwork should be dry by now and his car should look brand new. Cas, of all people, deserved a nice looking car. But then, Dean couldn't bring himself to leave. Leaving meant he wouldn't get to see Cas for another few hours, not until he picked him up to take him to this party. That stupid party. Sure, Dean loved Jo like a sister, and her boyfriend Victor was a nice enough guy, Chuck was a laugh too, and Benny might even show his face, but there were probably going to be others there too. Lisa, for example, would probably seek out Dean and linger like a bad smell. Lisa had seen the décor of Dean's bedroom a few more times than he'd care to admit, it was pushing six times now. The relationship had probably veered from friendship, to friends with benefits. Kind of like you and Cas, moron. Well, that would be true, if Dean gave a rats ass about Lisa. He didn't, not really, not in the way he cared about Castiel. It was safe to say he cared. Caring was vastly different to loving, at least that's what Dean told himself. In fact, it was quickly becoming his own personal mantra, alongside; you're not gay, Cas in an exception and, his personal favorite, Dean, you're a douchebag. At least one of the statements constantly circling around his skull was correct, and it happened to be the last one. 

Dean was just finishing off his coffee when he realized Castiel was keeping himself busy instead of talking to him. "The party tonight, it's only across campus so I figured I could pick you up after work and take us both back to the apartment." Dean said conversationally. He didn't want Cas to be off with him. It was hard enough having to convince himself that nothing had changed, the last thing he needed was Castiel confirming his fears. Fears? There really shouldn't be the assumption that change was a bad thing. In fact, perhaps they needed a little change to shake things up a bit. Cas had been Dean's best friend since they were knee high, and in that time they had grown, and their friendship had adapted to go with it. But then it reached the point it was at a few days ago. The point where it stagnated completely and they hadn't done anything about it. Until yesterday, that is, when they decided the best way to jump start it was to fuck. Dean offered a small smile to Cas and handed him the empty mug. "It's better for me not to take my Baby over to Jo's as, you know me, I'll probably get pretty smashed tonight." Dean liked having a good time, that much was obvious. Sometimes he thought he drank too much, but then he drank some more and told himself he was being paranoid. All guys in their early twenties drank, it wasn't a big deal, and Dean wasn't his father. Not yet, anyway. Dean tilted his head at Castiel, seeing Gabriel cleaning up a table over the far side of the café. "Hey... I was just wondering if our sleeping arrangements were still... Y'know, in place?" Dean asked, a smile similar to a smirk on his face. It have the illusion that he wouldn't care ether way, but deep down he knew he'd be gutted of Castiel said they weren't. Dean was an amazing actor, which was slightly convening. How many times had he pretended to be something he wasn't? That he was fine? Too many times, too many. "Of course, I don't know if I'll be very talkative tonight, I'll probably just pass out and drool on you," Dean shrugged, quickly realizing that he was telling Castiel that he wasn't planning on bringing a girl home, not even Lisa. He was telling his best friend that he'd rather spend a night curled up with him instead of having meaningless sex with a faceless woman. Dean loved meaningless sex, it meant he didn't have to deal with situations like the one he had with Cas. Dean pushed his sleeves to his elbows and crossed his arms, fixing Cas with one of his stares again. It was easy to get lost in the blue of Castiel's eyes, and Dean was drowning in those endless oceans, drifting deeper and deeper. Surprisingly, Dean didn't care if he never surfaced again. In hindsight, that was probably what led him to placing his hand on Castiel's forearm and squeezing it gently, just some physical contact. Dean's fingertips tingled where they made contact with the soft skin of Castiel's wrist and it was so damn addictive. This was why Dean wanted Castiel naked in his bed again. This is why Dean wanted to have sex with his best friend again. This is why Dean wanted more. Fuck, he was screwed. "I should be getting back," Dean stumbled over his words as he pushed away from the wall. He was close to Castiel again, too damn close, and he couldn't breathe. His ribcage seemed to be constricting around his lungs, choking every last breath from his chest. With a deep breath, Dean smiled. His hand dropped from Castiel's wrist and he playfully stroked the side of his forefinger over Castiel's cheek. "You keep blushing, Novak. It's cute as hell." Dean breathed, a teasing grin on his face. "Oh, and tell Gabriel to bite me." Dean wiggled his fingers over at Gabriel just to mess with the guy before winking at him. It earned him an eye roll, which Dean was more than satisfied with. "See you later, Cas." Dean said fondly, though he made no effort to leave the spot where he was currently standing. 

 

The messy-haired employee listened to Dean as he worked, thinking to himself that it was much too hard to focus whenever he was so close. If he didn't bring it up, on the other hand, that was a problem that wouldn't be fixed, and he liked that. It was understandable that Dean said he wanted to take Castiel's car instead, because he loved his own like a child. It didn't surprise him very much. He breezed through more easy orders, while Gabe was on the phone, arguing with the guy who shipped their cafe its much-needed gourmet whipped cream. It was late, according to him, and he was demanding either a double order or a refund. Well... At least one of them could stand up for themselves. Gabriel had always been more of the outspoken type in his family, which was a good thing. He got this business standing up on two feet, and Castiel could never thank him enough for that feat. "I understand that.." He delivered his reply softly, an indication of him having no problem with it. He put Dean's mug on the dirty silverware rack to be washed at the end of the day. At the mention of their sleeping arrangements, in which Castiel definitely knew what he was talking about-- it reminded him of how Dean's voice felt against his ear, smooth and silky, and then gone. That little moment in bed was, somehow, just as memorable as the sex.

"Oh, our-- um.. Yes. Of course. Why wouldn't they be?" Was he alluding to not wanting them to be in place? Or was he asking because he wanted to make completely sure, because he did want that to happen? It was hard to tell, and even harder to bring up for clarification. So, Castiel didn't seek any specification at all. He accepted that it could go either way, and that, telling by the way Dean said it, he must have wanted it to be so. Most likely. Though, the smile Dean had made him unsure all over again. He went with a gut feeling, because, knowing Dean, he was probably hiding something under that easygoing expression. He'd like to think so, after all.

It was with the insinuation that Dean would 'just pass out' on him that lit up Castiel's face. That made him have that little strand of hope tied around his finger once more. Sex wasn't all that mattered to this man, not when it came to him and Castiel. Thankfully. This was different, this wasn't how he would act with anyone else. He wouldn't want to brag about it or anything, but it was a slightly solid truth. It was enough for him to grab a little hope off of. Perhaps Dean's mentality had matured. Could he actually want something serious? Something without--

What was he doing? What was he doing? After a female customer that he's seen here a few times left, Dean seemed to be all over Castiel, leaving ghosts of touches in his wake that left the spots where he drifted past shudder. It simply was not fair. 

When the older Winchester said that he was going to go, with the suggestion of the fact that he really should be back at work (seeing as it was more than five minutes since his break ended), and the casual 'see you later' was spouted off, he was thinking that Dean would, well... Move. But there was a murmur in the chain of events, some feeling that was hard to pinpoint overpowering both of them. Or, at least, it was for Castiel. Suddenly, it didn't matter that Gabriel was watching, and it didn't matter that they were in a place swarming with people that had their own opinions and whatnot. They were here, together, both living a moment that was derailing into something that he very well knew they both wanted. Why couldn't they be a little selfish and reach out? Dean hadn't made an effort to even stop himself from touching Castiel's arm, and his cheek. And he could plainly see it now, in Dean's eyes, that Dean wanted this again. It wasn't as if he was going to refuse, because... It was indisputable at the least, to say that he wanted to have sex with Dean. Not just once. Maybe one night stands weren't usually things that even could happen once in their positions. Not when you were seeing each other every day, and not when things like this were happening. Castiel's heart was like a hummingbird, becoming quickly over-aware of all that was going on. He didn't know if there was a way to control blushing, but, if he knew how, he would do all in his power to stop. Personal space didn't exist, even in a place where it once had and could. "Right... See you later." His reply wasn't very strong, because he was extremely lost right now, almost at the point of having some sort of out-of-body experience. The odd, urgent feeling in his stomach refused to leave for all it was worth. There was a time in which even the air stood still, to afraid to shift the tiniest bit. Deep gazes and affectionate gestures between the two of them seemed as if it was anything but romantuc, though they had obviously gone too far for their own good now. Too far for a valid excuse of redemption. Castiel had to accept the truth in their faltering. It only felt right. He leaned forward to give Dean a goodbye kiss. 

 

There was the briefest of pauses when Dean's thoughts decided to vacate his mind and leave a sign saying they'd be back soon, and Dean just stood there. What the hell was going on? Well, it was pretty obvious that Castiel had his lips against Dean's own and they were kissing, in public. Dean went a little cross eyed as he looked at Cas, his lips puckering up slightly without him even telling them they had to. It was as if all that tension building up inside Dean just snapped, and for now Dean was letting the little tendrils of warmth and need reach out to Castiel. Dean was then cursing inwardly when Castiel pulled away and he hadn't had a chance to respond. Dammit, Dean hadn't even managed to close his eyes and although it was satisfying, it wasn't quite enough. The Winchester watched Castiel silently for a moment, his lips slightly parted as he stared at him with wide eyes. "We should stop this, shouldn't we?" It was a genuine question and Dean wanted to know Castiel's take on the whole situation. The kiss had done nothing but confuse Dean again. It had jumbled all of the puzzle pieces again, even the bits Dean had managed to put together. "Tell me to walk away Cas," Dean whispered as he placed his hand on Castiel's cheek, brushing his thumb pat the corner of Castiel's lips. "Tell me I have to go, or I don't think I'll be able to do it." Dean was being uncharacteristically soft and tender, and something inside his chest was burning harder and brighter than anything he'd ever felt before. 

What was currently transpiring was something that came from those stupid chick flicks that Dean refused to watch, yet always endured for the sake of his best friend. When had Dean's life become such a massive cliché? Dean wasn't even sure if his feet would move if he tried to shift away from his best friend. He felt like he was anchored to the spot and was terrified about the consequences of leaving right now. It would rip the very Dean's of everything they'd just built here, whatever it was. Maybe that was a good thing, maybe Dean was getting a bit too ahead of himself here. A relationship with Cas, no, he could never give himself that. Yet here they were, suspended in some alternate reality, or so it seemed. They were drifting into dark and dangerous waters, and Dean knew he should turn this ship around, sail it in the other direction...

Which was why it made no sense to him when he was leaning in again, tilting his head and pressing his lips to Castiel's. They belonged there, god, they fitted together so perfectly. Dean slid his hand round the back of Castiel's head and threaded his fingers through Castiel's hair, keeping them attached, just in case Cas pushed him away or, hell, drifted away on a summer breeze. Dean wasn't prepared to let either happen as he let his eyes close and he dragged his lips over Castiel's, kissing him slowly and somewhat intimately. Dean didn't let his mind give any input as to what was currently occurring. He didn't want to hear his conscience's worries and concerns about where he was taking himself and Cas right now. It's just a kiss. It's just a kiss. It's just a- crap. This wasn't just a kiss. 

Dean was the one to break the spell, letting his palm slide from Castiel hair to his collar. Dean took a deep breath as he pulled back just enough to look Cas in the eye, looking for any disgruntlement about what Dean had just initiated. Dean was a little shocked to see the look on Castiel's face, he didn't look upset or angry; Cas was glowing. It made any worry Dean had evaporate into thin air, though he still had to reprimand himself for shoving them right back to where they were yesterday, in that fuzzy not-quite-friends-but-not-quite-lovers area once more. Dean sighed and gave a lazy, lopsided smile. "You should have told me to walk away." Dean said quietly, feeling the thump, thump, thump of Castiel's heart under his palm. "I'll pick you up at five, your brother can try to stop me stealing you away an hour early, but I think I have bigger muscles than him." Dean teased, licking his lips and tasting the slightest hint of Cas. He liked that, he wondered if he could get a hint of Cas with every coffee he ordered. "I told Jo we'd be over her dorm by six, that gives us about an hour to kill," Dean left the suggestion open to interpretation. Castiel could take from it whatever he wanted to. "Anyway, I am going to be so late back if I don't get my ass back on the road. Here, I don't want to give Gabe more reasons to hate my guts." Dean reached into his back pocket and tugged out his wallet, passing over enough to cover the coffee and pie. His fingers curled Castiel's over the money and he winked. "Until we meet again, sweet cheeks." Dean somehow managed to pry his feet from the wooden floor and stroll over to the door, glancing at Cas once more before leaving with a little ding. 

 

Just as Castiel had put his lips up against his roommate's, he realized one thing; he wasn't being pushed away. It was the simple part of this in which he'd decided to close his eyes during the process, so he didn't know if this was what Dean wanted or not-- you could presume as much, telling by the other man's erection-- but, other than that, there was no true way in which Castiel could get a firm grasp on how Dean's emotions worked. No way that he could be sure of the expression shown on the man's face, because.. He could be lying to Castiel. He could just be doing that for a reason beyond his comprehension. And he couldn't just ask every time, or else it would make everything awkward. And awkward was just another word for uncomfortable, no matter how many ways you put it. He was an awkward person most of the tome, so, for Dean, it should have been a thing he'd at least gotten used to. They'd known each other for practically all their lives, anyway. Maybe that's how soulmates happen-- you know someone for so long that all of their feeling stick out to you like a sore thumb, whether or not they want that. That was what Castiel understood it to be, anyway... And Dean and him most likely didn't fit that criteria perfectly at all. Once he pulled away, he couldn't tell if Dean was angry, upset, ecstatic, or just neutral. He just stood there and stared, which had to be similar to what Castiel himself did sometimes. So, he found it completely appropriate, seeing that he was just searching for words to use. He let the Winchester plan accordingly, waiting like he always had, with infinite patience. He said something that the young blue-eyed man hadn't exactly planned to hear-- why was he refusing himself of this? Was he just coming off on the wrong foot? What was he doing that was so appalling to Dean, so wrong? He wanted fast and easy answers, although that didn't seem like the case for this riddle. There were just some things that needed a little extra prompting, or attention to. Perhaps Castiel just needed to pay more attention to Dean in general. Will that make him love him? Or perhaps he just needed to be a little more obvious. Telling by the little song sung to him in the middle of the night (that he liked more than he should have), Dean must have felt like he was just out of reach, when he was actually right there in the palm of his hand, wanting him like no other, but he chose not to acknowledge that for some reason. If Castiel could just figure out why, he could convince Dean that he is, in fact, who he wants in his life, and then maybe he'll understand. Maybe he can get this to add up. Whenever Dean asked him if they should stop, Castiel furrowed his eyebrows the slightest-- was it because he wanted to stop, or was it because he thought that it would be of best interest for the both of them? Neither of those possibilities were ones that he liked. He shook his head slowly, subtly. Then, his best friend was administering soft touches that contradicted his words, that only made them harder to say. So he wasn't going to say them, because he just couldn't stand having Dean continue this. There was no way that he could tell him to walk away now-- usually, they naturally gravitated towards one another anyway, but the bond was more prominent than anything right now. It only made him want Dean to stay even more, to have them hold onto each other and never let go, despite those complications in themselves. For now, they were only treating a symptom, knowing that the case would never go away unless they figure out exactly why it's there in the first place, and then cure it like so. He didn't know if by 'curing' this, he'd be curing their separation, or if they'd be ridding themselves of what Dean found to be so extremely unfavorable in the first place. Why couldn't they have something? Was Castiel really that bad to him? That unworthy? He absorbed the little touches for now and put them to memory, just in case it was the last time for it to happen, which he somehow found himself doubting extremely. He kissed Castiel back without either of them having to ask, much like how the first one was initiated. Dean was actually moving and such in this, though, and that made Castiel just want to pull him closer, and he draped his arms behind the man's shoulders for support. It felt like they were both trying to hold one another there for the fear of losing them had become too strong ever since this first began. He found himself not being able to respond to what Dean said first, simply because he disagreed extremely. That kiss was something to remember for the rest of the day, in his opinion (unless something was going to top that.) 

An hour. But for what? Dean's words left Castiel's mind reeling even more, leading him to think that Dean was either insinuating something, or he was suggesting it himself. He didn't even want to ask, though, because that would just be embarrassing to figure out that Dean was thinking something else, if he was. He was content with leaving it as yet another blank. "Okay," He said somewhat absently, his eyes still searching Dean's presence in general. "Um.. Right." He managed before he watched Dean walk away, not actually thinking it would happen for another thousand more years or so. He felt the other man's hand linger over his own, as if it wasn't just air now.


	8. Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Castiel to cars as girls are to diamonds? Not to say that Castiel is a girl. If he was, though, that would make Dean's life about 24 times easier.

Gabriel waited for a moment, slack jawed, staring at his brother. Part of him was happy for Castiel, and damn proud that he'd finally stuck his neck out for someone. But then, Gabriel had this horrible foreboding feeling stirring deep down in his gut. It was Castiel himself who'd told him that Dean didn't want a relationship, so this was only going to end in heartbreak on Castiel's part. "I should dock your pay for standing around sucking off Dean's face when you should be serving customers." Gabriel said finally, a small smile playing around his lips. For now, Cas seemed happy, so who was Gabriel to burst his bubble? Gabriel wiped down the counter before serving the next customer, seeing the stupid dewy eyed look his brother had and figuring that he'd be no use for the next five minutes, at least, while he got over the slow kiss he'd just shared with his best friend. Gabriel put Cas on table cleaning duty until he 'stopped looking like a little virgin schoolgirl who'd just got her first handful'. 

The mood Dean was in when he returned to the yard was so drastically different to the one he'd left in that Benny was a little concerned. Dean whistled along to a random Metallica song while he went over to Castiel's car and saw that the paint job was practically dry. Castiel's car now looked almost as sexy as Cas himself. Was it okay for Dean to call Cas sexy when they weren't in a relationship? Dean didn't know the rules, but technically they'd just kissed again, twice, so that had to mean something. It was pretty much like Dean getting yet another teasing bite of Castiel just for him to be taken away again and locked away. It wasn't that Dean thought Cas would be bad for him, it was more that he was worried he would be bad for Castiel. God, Dean would hate himself if Castiel got hurt. It was partly selfish as well, as Dean simply didn't want to lose his best friend. But now he wasn't even sure he was going to lose him, even if they walked that road and never looked back. It was one thing whispering to each other in the dark, as that was private, their own little secret. But now they'd kissed in a public space. What did that even mean? Dean had kissed more girls than he had fingers on his hands to count them on, but none of them meant anything. The kisses with Cas did, but Dean damn well couldn't figure out exactly what they meant. All Dean was certain of was that he wanted to kiss Castiel again, and suck at those stupidly pink lips until they were swollen from all the attention. 

Dean ignored Benny when the lumbering man tried to ask him what he was so happy about. The Winchester didn't want to tell him that he may possibly be in love. Love? Why did Dean keep bringing up love? It was impossible for Dean to love, not properly, at least. Perhaps that was what the issue was here. Dean wasn't exactly a commitment-phobe, it wasn't something petty like that, it was something more deeply rooted in Dean's childhood. John Winchester wasn't a bad father, not in Dean's eyes, he was just very set in his ways. He was a strict parent, even more so following the death of Mary Winchester. Dean prided himself on being the model son, eager to impress John, whatever the cost. That was the reason Dean had to start lying to everyone about who he really was and what he was really feeling. Calling Castiel pretty had earned him a slap, saying that he loved the youngest Novak boy had earned him even more. Dean still had the scar where the leather of John's belt had struck his skin, splitting it open. Dean was only ten at the time. Perhaps if Castiel ever saw Dean naked in the cold light of day, Dean would explain to him how he got the scar between his shoulder blades. I got hit because it's wrong for me to love you. But Dean would never bring it up in any conversation he ever shared with his best friend. It was slightly pathetic that it only took one strike of leather to set Dean straight. If Dean was really seriously in love with Cas, perhaps he could have endured more, maybe five strikes or more. But he didn't. He couldn't. 

It was a little after four fifteen when Dean was finally finished for the day. He'd given Castiel's engine the once over too and tuned it up so it was running smoothly. Hell, Castiel's car looked newer than the day Cas got it. It was done out of the kindness of Dean's heart, but also to help subside the tremendous feeling of overbearing guilt Dean still had inside him. The words Dean had used to describe Cas, hadn't been his own. They were words he'd had drilled into his skull from a young age and it wasn't really his fault that he repeated them. It was part of the brainwashing that Dean had endured. "Right, I'll see you all bright an early tomorrow morning, but you better have a coffee ready, I'm going to a college dorm party tonight, and you know how smashed I got last time." Dean said to Benny, earning a raised eyebrow and a "you're telling me, brother." Dean really had been drunk, to the point where he couldn't really remember his own name anymore, hell, he couldn't really remember much of anything. He only recalled waking up in his bed with a naked Lisa sprawled over him like a rag doll. The next day, Benny had spent all day blasting loud music and whistling, just to make Dean's hangover ten thousand times worse. Dean had vowed then to never drink again. It lasted two hours. Sobriety was overrated. 

Dean left his beloved Impala safely tucked away in the garage, deciding to keep her there overnight and hitch a ride with his best friend. He drove Castiel's new looking vehicle all the way to the café and parked it out of view. He wanted it to be a surprise for Castiel, and hopefully a good one at that. Dean wanted to see the way Castiel's eyes lit up and sparkled, when nothing but pure happiness swam behind his eyes. There might even be a thank you fuck in it for Dean, not that he was going to pressure Castiel into anything. He wasn't even sure if being intimate with Cas was the best idea if a relationship was a no no. It was almost like Dean was stringing Castiel along, whether the Winchester wanted to admit it or not. 

 

Dean's apocryphal messages that he was sending to Castiel was just digging him deeper into some pit of poorly-informed and assumed things about their relationship-friendship thing. At this point, it was just turning into this ugly little monster, knocking Castiel around every other way and making him regret everything that happened that got him here in the first place. But, there would be other times where he would regret regretting it. So, yes, it was turning into a Gremlin, but Castiel was so oblivious that he just kept letting it bite him just to see all the other times in which it wouldn't be. He looked all wistful standing there, watching Dean as he went, and the hours passed on much more fluidly. He was completely fine with cleaning tables for the rest of his shift, because, otherwise he'd probably just end up making Dean's coffee for every order. He was thrown off completely, put in some bittersweet disposition. He knew acutely that he'd need to eventually re-align himself, but that didn't have to be until later. Knowing himself, he'd probably just keep pushing the problem back further until it didn't end up being a problem at all. 

He just didn't know what the problem was in the first place. Or, more rather, what was causing it. Was it him? Was he too overbearing? Or was it Dean, and he didn't even notice it yet? Was he the one who kept pushing the older Winchester away, or was it vice-versa? He was so far into this that he could barely tell. He was just drunk, drowning in love, ridiculous and hopeful and hopeless all at once. Gabriel seemed to take note, but he was letting Castiel figure this one out on his own. Or, maybe it was just because Castiel wasn't asking him for advice this time. He wasn't sure of what made him think that he knew what he was doing, because it was the practical opposite of that right now. He had been kissing Dean, and Dean had been replying wholeheartedly.Were they just leading each other on? Was that even something that could happen? It was almost as if they were both playing Tug Of War, and they both just kept yanking on each other instead of actually trying to pull something decent of themselves together. Well, from this point on, Castiel knew that he couldn't just keep doing that. One of them, if any of them, had to make up their mind.

All of Castiel's thoughts kept tracking back to the party they were supposed to go to together, tonight. This was if he didn't think beyond that, where it would then ultimately get to the topic of love. A toxic word all in its own. Dean didn't want that, as far as the young man could tell. Dean didn't want him like that. So, love was not the word that was even allowed to come to mind anymore, for the fact that Gabriel always talked about him getting hurt, and Castiel was beginning to believe him about being cautious. To actually look out for himself. Because, if he let himself get too close (which he already was too close, but he wasn't about to let himself believe that), he would have his heart broken, and that was just too hard to bear for someone this new to the world, apparently. It was too much to gain a full understanding and realization of, because it really did have big effects on how you lived. Physical heartache, as a product of caring too much (not to mention chemicals in your brain). But, no matter how you looked at it, Castiel always cared too much. This heartache part of his life was more than inevitable by now.

Before he knew it, his day was coming to an abrupt close. At least the tables looked nice.

When Dean came in for the second time, he seemed much more lively than before, if that was even possible in his position. He didn't have to worry about love and loss, especially whenever he didn't love Castiel at all. He was lucky. He only admired Dean more for it. He was just going to enjoy this for what it was, however. Even if he was going to be alone in the end.

He didn't see the Impala anywhere in the front windows of the shop, which struck him as a little curious as to why this could be. He stretched his arms above his head, getting a small paper cup and filling it up with the purified water behind the counter before approaching Dean, figuring that he should render at least one of his hands as occupied in case he tries to do something idiotic in the heat of the moment. 

"Hello, Dean." There was a pause, a slight and sudden hesitation in Castiel's voice.

 

Dean fiddled with the car keys as he came face to face with the one guy who made his mouth go dry and his words to evaporate into nothingness. He smiled fondly at Cas, vaguely aware that Gabriel was lingering nearby and watching the events as they unfolded. "Hey, Cas." He said simply, finding himself annoyingly speechless. He wasn't entirely sure when Castiel started having this effect on him, but he was guessing it was sometime after their angry make-up sex but before the intimate make out session they had in this very café, barely hours ago. Dean worried at his bottom lip for a moment, wondering if he'd done the right thing with Castiel's car. Perhaps the messy-haired boy liked having a car that was just as quirky as he was, maybe Cas would be mad at Dean for tinkering with it. Though, to be fair, anything had to be better than having the word faggot printed in bold capitals across the windscreen. Dean could be a real asshole sometimes, he'd quickly come to realize. "I've uh, come to take you away from this hell and your evil brother," Dean teased, reaching forward and tucking his fingers into the apron tied around Castiel's waist. He didn't really view it as inappropriate, not when they were already really comfortable around each other. Hell, back at their dorm, they wandered around in their boxers all the time, touching each other's bare skin without giving it much thought. Actually, come to think of it, they were maybe a littletoo hands on with one another, it just hadn't been obvious until now. Dean loosened the apron and it fell from Castiel's waist, into his hand. Dean folded it and placed it on the side, catching Gabriel's eye and winking at him.

Gabriel wandered over and smacked Dean on the back of the head. "As if it wasn't bad enough you scaring off the customers with your dirty kissing earlier, now you're stealing my most valued member of staff away before the end of his shift?" Gabriel asked, a somewhat smug look on his face. He was fed up of his little brother being messed around. Firstly, it was Balthazar. It seemed that it wasn't only Dean who had a problem with the blonde-haired Brit, but also Gabriel. Gabe thought he was trouble from the start, constantly showing up out of the blue to take Castiel out on secret dates to undisclosed locations. It was pretty obvious from the state Castiel was in when he returned that those meet ups had been mainly about the physical gratification, whether sex was involved or not. Something about a guy who simply seemed to want Castiel for his body made Gabriel's skin crawl, and he'd grown more and more protective of Castiel as a result of it. Now, the problem seemed to be Dean. Gabriel couldn't get his head around why Dean would make the effort to show his face not once, not twice, but three times at the café in one day if he didn't genuinely have feelings for Castiel. Trying to understand Dean Winchester was a seemingly impossible task, and it was endlessly frustrating. "I should have you banned from here, Winchester. You're bad for business." 

Dean blushed brightly for a moment, his cheeks burning a bright crimson color as the kissing was mentioned. "Shut up, Gabe. Cas is your only member of staff, and you know that guy on guy action, when both guys are criminally sexy, is hot as hell." Dean managed to reply in a snarky voice. He pouted slightly and then cleared his throat, throwing Castiel a strange, almost indecipherable look. Maybe it was a look of longing, a look of desire, even Dean wasn't sure. Something about the way they looked at each other had changed quite drastically. It was so far from being classed as platonic that it was almost laughable. "Anyway, I have to steal Cas away right now, because I have a surprise for him that I've been working on all day long, and I can't keep it a secret any longer." Dean said quickly, brushing over the slightly awkward silence that had descended on them. It seemed that silence was now one of Dean's greatest enemies, giving him too much time with his own thoughts, and right now, they were too confusing for Dean to be really comfortable listening to them. You love him, you love him not. You love him, you love him not. God, when did Dean turn into such a girl? Dean caught Castiel's eye and reached for Castiel's wrist, tugging his hand towards him and opening his palm. You love him, you love him not. Sparks shot from the area where their skin touched, just that tiny patch, and radiated throughout Dean's whole body, making his heart jump and his pulse stutter slightly. You love him, you love him not. Dean pressed the cold metal keys into Castiel's hand and curled his fingers around them, maintaining eye contact the entire time. "I wanted to say sorry for what I did the other day, it wasn't cool, I know that. I know I'm a bit of a dick sometimes, so I had to make it right." Dean's hand slipped away from Castiel's and went to rest on his back, guiding him towards the front door of the shop, the bell making it's trademarkding as they left into the fresh air. Dean directed Castiel's attention to the new-looking car and smiled affectionately at him, loving how Castiel's eyes lit up. 

You love him.

 

Castiel simply didn't know how Dean was always able to pull things off. Like how he could just show up, convince his brother to let him go early, and take Castiel with him right out the door. Speaking of the whole process, the fact that none of it was too terribly awkward or off-putting for the young man scared him just a little. Because it was kind of.. Intimate. Just like how whenever they were kissing, it was just as mindbogglingly heart-stopping as when their fingers would accidentally brush against some part of their bodies. This just wasn't fair for either of them now, now that Castiel knew that... While Dean may have not loved him at all, he was attracted to him, and that just made the situation even worse. There are people who definitely try to keep their relationships purely sexual without having to bring up any notions of actually being with that person. In the media, as well as real life, this never works. They either eventually start dating as well, or their little 'sex-buddy' fantasy dies out faster than it had been born. Castiel wasn't sure if the sex-buddy property applied to them, however. Him and Dean were as close as can be. Having sex just seemed to make sense-- it was almost like it could be a part of their little routine, now. Maybe they just had to face the fact that they flirted with each other far too much to keep being consistently platonic. 

Yes, whenever Dean reached around him to take off his apron, Castiel was just wanting him to start taking off the rest of his clothes, too. With the way that the slightly older, slightly taller Winchester was looking at him as if he was good enough to eat, he may as well have. To the healthily moderate to slim amount people in the cafe at this time of day, Castiel and Dean were looking like they were about to shoot a porno right in the middle of this place. It was ridiculous. He could feel their eyes on him, even though the attraction from the public wasn't his problem about this. In fact, that was never the problem for him. Castiel could care less about what people thought. He was just overly worried about Dean picking up on it, because it was just one of those things that had the possibility of ending their friendship. Dean never liked a lot of public displays of affection with his girlfriends, unless it was Maggie, which took that saying to a whole new level. They don't talk about her. 

Anyway, no, Dean was never much for keeping girlfriends around for more than one night. Sure, Lisa had stuck around for a while, and Castiel still wasn't sure what broke them up. Dean simply refused to tell him. And, now, Dean seemed to be all for showing that the employee of this place was very much his, even though that wasn't technically made clear as to if they were even dating. Oh, wait. It was. They weren't.

Then how did this make any sense?

Dean had always viewed the cafe as more of a negative space, mostly because this was where he saw Gabriel most, but, part of Castiel wondered if they kissed here more, he'd forget about whether or not Gabriel was here. What was he saying? No, that probably wasn't a solution. Though he seemed more than eager to do that, it wasn't a solution to anything. It would make the problem worse. Though, one way to find a solution to the problem would be to figure out what it was in the first place. Maybe there just wasn't one, and they were just being nervous around each other. Maybe this was just what friends could do around each other now. Was there such a thing as friendly sex? 

Castiel could feel his face heat up as he felt the apron fall from his waist, similar to how his guard was now completely down for the count, and he was almost transfixed by how gentle Dean was being. He never meant to implicitly stare at this man, but he always did. That was most likely one thing that would refuse to change, no matter what. Admiring this type of beauty was never quite a crime. This was especially whenever Dean was looking at him, too-- staring as well, if he could say as much. After the short and standard banter between Dean and Gabriel, which had also brought up previous activities that they should probably talk about alone later, they were suddenly going outside, presumably to get to Dean's car. Or... Maybe to whatever surprise Dean was describing. Castiel's train of thought was thrown off by the time their hands had found one another's, and it was as if they just couldn't keep their hands off of each other after they'd had sex. This was affection, they were in public, and he was overwhelmingly confused. That, combined with what Dean said right beforehand, made him scrunch up his eyebrows and frown for a small moment. Then, just as they turned the corner-- was that his car?

"Wow."

He was sort of taken aback by how good it looked, how it almost just didn't look like it was his at all. The shade of blue was oddly familiar, but overall unable to he distinct for him. He looked towards Dean, a soft smile plastered onto his face that he meant with all of his being, Castiel was never much for hugging. in fact, he couldn't quite remember the last time he'd hugged somebody, but that's what he did. Practically tackled Dean with his arms hooked behind his neck, draped around his shoulders in a way, "It's beautiful."

 

Dean was taken aback by the hug, not expecting it from the boy who was normally quite socially awkward. Dean wasn't about to complain though, not when Castiel was so warm against his front. Dean wrapped his arms back around Castiel and held him even closer, letting his hands travel down the boy's back and rest on the small of Castiel's back, turning the hug into something much more intimate, like an embrace shared by lovers. Which they weren't, of course. That didn't stop Dean from closing his eyes and burying his nose in the crook of Castiel's neck, inhaling that smell of coffee and Cas. Dean wished he could bottle that scent and keep it with him for when he was feeling upset or lonely. Castiel was just infinitely comforting for Dean, and he didn't know what would happen if this ever turned sour and they lost their connection. Dean brushed his lips over Castiel's pulse point and inhaled sharply as he pulled away, out off Castiel's grasp. "I went for a shade of blue that reminded me of you, I wasn't sure if you'd like it..." Dean was shy now, scratching nervously behind his neck as he blushed ever so slightly, his freckles getting lost in the pink tinge. "Was the least I could do after writing inappropriate things on your windscreen." Dean shrugged and found himself staring at Castiel's hands, unable to meet his best friend's gaze. Were Castiel's hands always this beautiful? They were tanned and sculpted, like those of an artist. What a shame that they were wasted on making (admittedly great tasting) coffee day in day out, then just used to write countless notes at college. What a waste. 

Dean swallowed and looked up, seeing Castiel watching him with some kind of muted curiosity. It was amazing how Castiel seemed to be able to convey his feelings without saying a single word. "We should get going," Dean said finally, knowing they couldn't just stand in the car park for the next hour or so, staring at each other and waiting for something to happen. Besides, Dean was rather looking forward to Jo's party, wanting to get completely smashed so he could stop thinking, if only for a little while. It sounded selfish, but he didn't want to think about this so much any more. The more he thought about it, the more it made his head hurt and his heart ache. Why was this so damn difficult? Dean knew the answer to that, of course. The answer was because he was a stubborn asshole who wasn't prepared to put his neck on the line for the sake of a relationship with his best friend. It was risky and while Dean often liked taking risks, their friendship was too precious.

Cas was too precious.

Dean cleared his throat and wandered over to the car, sliding into the passenger seat and allowing Castiel to take the first spin in his newly modified car. Dean had done a pretty awesome job, if he may say so himself. In fact, Dean was in a damn happy mood, not knowing about the blonde, British surprise that was coming for them at the party. For now, Dean was content enough to just spend time with Castiel and bask in the glow of their thriving friendship... Relationship? Dean wasn't sure anymore. What started as meaningless sex had morphed into something much more complex and deep. It was dangerous territory, but also exciting. Take the kiss from earlier today, for example. Dean had enjoyed that very much, the spontaneity of it and the thrill it send down his spine. Even now, the thought of it gave him chills. It made Dean want to reach across the car and crush their lips together again, but he was able to resist, just about. The elder Winchester settled back in the seat and leaned against the window, watching Castiel's hands again; the way they gripped the steering wheel, his fingers curling around the worn material. Dean grinned an easy grin, thinking about what could potentially happen between himself and Castiel tonight. It was like a massive surprise, waiting to be unveiled. Perhaps they'd both get drunk and stumble home to pass out, but maybe things could go much differently. Dean had already played out hundreds of possibilities in his head, fully prepared to face the prospect of kissing Castiel in front of everyone and dealing with the fallout when he was sober. He also thought of the sex, obviously. It was hard not to think about the potential sex when their last intimate encounter had made such an impression on Dean. Castiel wasn't really a drinker though, and Dean had to take that into account. "If Charlie ropes us into Truth or Dare tonight, you're going to have to use your blue puppy eyes to try and get us out of it." Dean stated coolly as they travelled back towards the dorm. "She'll let you out of it, but she'll likely make me do ten dares if I try and worm my way out of it," he continued, remembering the last time Charlie had suggested such a game. It had been a bit of a drunken blur, but the next day Dean had awoken with a nameless blonde girl sprawled across his chest. Butt naked, as standard. Tequila Dean was a little bit of a slut, more so than normal Dean, that was for sure. "That pretty face of yours will get you places, babe." There went the stupid slip up again. Castiel, not babe. Dean cursed himself, but wasn't too upset by the mistake. It kind of fit to call Castiel such a pet name. It wasn't that gay, was it? No, Dean could deal with it.

 

In Castiel's experience, hugs had always been more of a brief locking of arms, in a way. Bodies usually didn't touch, not like this. He found it so easy to do it, though. Easy to just meld himself into Dean's heated torso. This very well could have been just as graphic as the sex they'd had, oddly enough. It just felt that way, for no distinct or very particular reason of any sort. He felt the other man's face press against his neck, and his breath just sort of caught in his throat, his heart gripping itself and squeezing so that it'd start beating again, as rapidly as ever. There should have been some law instated about this much physical contact after a 48-hour window of having sex with your best friend. They were doing it way too much. But, without regard for what his actions could cause, Castiel craved this. He almost needed Dean's hands that low, practically lived on the breaths that puffed against his skin and raised hairs upon it. After getting that long, languid taste of having another kind of physical contact with Dean, he couldn't deny that he wanted it more and more ever since. Honestly, he'd never felt so greedy before. He wasn't used to both taking and receiving, in this sense. Just like in the cafe, if anyone were to walk by and spot them, they'd think that it must be him and Dean's anniversary, or something. They were so close. Why was communication so hard for two men who were practically like brothers? Oh. Maybe it was just that. Remaining as friends for that long would give the impression that there was nothing better or beyond what they had, concerning their terms of friendship. After the abrupt, yet inevitable shattering of that facade, however, the effects were still lingering. They seemed to be learning, though. Castiel was, at least. This kind of closeness was completely okay between friends. Maybe there was such a thing as platonic sex.

Letting go wasn't easy, because Castiel was entirely too warm, the nape of Dean's neck offering the smooth and fond scent of his cologne (which actually smelled strangely fresh-- he wasn't going to bring it up in conversation, of course) and a nice balance of his workplace and the detergent that he drives more than ten minutes out of town to get. And his lips were more prominently there for a split second before they just weren't at all, until the two flesh-and-bone puzzle pieces were forcibly separated. Castiel had a hard time listening when he could hear his heart beating hard and fast in his ears, but he managed for Dean's sake. He didn't speak when he was supposed to, though. He just smiled, overwhelming happiness flooding over the usual guilt and insecurity. It was so considerate. He was torn between wanting to hug him again, kiss him, or just have sex with him in the back seat right then and there. The third consideration... That would give implications again. Implications. They couldn't have that, not at this day and age, not with what their separate mentalities were deciding to take form as and views of. Not when he was so close to wanting to cry of frustration and happiness at the same time. Castiel, if not both of them, had been very hormonal lately, just filled to the brim with emotion. He wasn't sure how to handle it quite yet, because he felt like an adolescent once again, with even more of the responsibility and freedom and with even less of an idea of how to find a balance in this never ending game of numbers and ideals.

So he just stared at Dean, making his eyes convey the utmost of appreciation, and he wouldn't lie-- even to himself-- but he also wouldn't vocalize that there was love in that stare, too. If there was anything he was able to do well, it would be making Dean uncomfortable, because that was what he thought he had done just now. Still selectively mute, he followed suit into the less homophobic-looking vehicle, buckling himself into the driver's seat. The interior was beautiful, too, and Dean must have made it smell like his own car. He wasn't particularly in love with the car itself, but even more so in love with Dean's commitment to it. Why couldn't he be this committed to making whatever they had work?

As he pulled out into the main street, he listened to Dean's slight ramblings. He wouldn't know what he'd do if he ever lost that voice in his life suddenly... And then, Castiel realized why Dean was so afraid to put effort into their odd situation. They could sever their ties forever like this. They could really lose each other. That was a real possibility. He tried to drift away from these thoughts as he heard Dean speak some more. He replayed the words in his head, registering them as he kept his eyes on the road. Oh. 

"Um.. Thank you." Castiel was preoccupied with focusing on not crashing this thing more than ever, though he found the fraction of time to glance over at Dean and give him a smile before turning back. There it was again. He almost didn't pick up on it. Babe. Nothing in his body refused the fact that he liked that more than he should have.

 

Dean caught Castiel's eyes for that split moment and tried to remember the little smile on his lips. It was gorgeous; the way Castiel's face lit up whenever he was happy or grateful. It was probably why Dean kept trying his utmost to get Castiel to be happy. Of course, there was a way he could make Cas ridiculously happy, and Dean knew it. Believe it or not, he actually caught on to what Cas was saying when they had their little heart to heart. Castiel Novak wanted Dean Winchester. Hell, Dean wanted Cas too, but he denied himself of the man constantly. It would be selfish to allow himself Castiel, to give into his temptations, and Dean wasn't prepared to do it. What did he do, exactly, to deserve Castiel? Nothing. Dean couldn't give himself the one thing that would make him stupidly happy too. It probably came across as him not caring, but in fact, it was the complete opposite. He cared far too much, worried for what would happen if they decided that this wasn't going to work any longer. That's why it was safer to just trundle along, not pushing for anything to happen, but not stopping anything from happening naturally.

The elder Winchester chuckled a little at Castiel's response, wondering why he was being thanked when he'd simply stated a fact. "You're such an idiot sometimes, y'know that right?" Dean sad fondly, no heat in his voice whatsoever as he pressed his head to the window, simply watching the way Castiel drove. It was vastly different to how Dean drove. Cas was all careful manoeuvring and keeping his eyes on the road, whereas Dean preferred speed and recklessness. The same was usually the same for his love life, but Castiel was that exception. It was well known that Dean had a reputation. He loved them, he left them wanting more, and sometimes, if they were really lucky, they'd get more than one taste of Dean Winchester. Dean liked that reputation, it stopped girls from wanting anything serious. Serious was definitely not Dean's thing, except when it came to Cas. Fuck, everything to do with Castiel just reeked of seriousness, and it made Dean feel a little uneasy. 

When they arrived back at the dorms, Dean had been watching Castiel for a good ten minutes. If his mind wasn't fogged from all the mixed messages and confusion, Dean would have found his actions creepy, but he really wasn't thinking straight. He wanted a drink and loud music, and Cas naked in his bed. Was that so wrong? Probably. Dean shoved the thought aside as he hid behind the perfect mask of aloofness and nonchalance that he had perfected. He didn't mind Cas thinking he was an asshole if it meant that Cas didn't fall in love with him. The possibility that Cas already loved him didn't even cross Dean's mind, as he slid out of the car, without saying another word to his best friend. Fumbling around in his pocket, Dean dug out his keys and headed towards the lobby of their dorm, having made this trip hundreds of times. "C'mon, coffee boy, We don't have much time before Jo is expecting us. I told her we'd be there early so she didn't look like a loner with no friends." Dean called over his shoulder, holding the door open for Castiel and trying not to visibly tense when Castiel's arm brushed past him. Was this what it was going to be like now? Dean flinching every time they came close to be intimate? That seemed a little over the top, and a whole lot annoying. Dean didn't really register his movements as his hand went to Castiel's wrist and gripped hold of it, stopping him in his tracks. Oh, come on. They'd very nearly made it back to the dorm without Dean doing or saying something stupid, why did he have to fuck it up now? Dean stared dumbly at where he was gripping hold of Castiel's arm and then that was it, they were frozen in time. This was one of those stupid, overly intimate moments when neither of them knew how to proceed, or what to say. Dean stared for what seemed like an eternity, the many options of what he could do next flashing past his eyes at an alarmingly fast rate. But then he dropped Castiel's wrist and cleared his throat. "I think I'm going to wear my red flannel shirt tonight," Dean said quickly, dismissing whatever had just happened in favor of dashing off into the dorm room, not holding this door open for Cas. He couldn't risk another slip up like that happening again in such a short amount of time. So he may have seemed slightly rude, at least he didn't seem in love. God forbid, Dean Winchester falling in love.

 

Castiel knew what had to be done, and if Dean wasn't going to step to the plate and bring it up, than he supposed that he'd just have to take matters into his own hands. It was already obvious that Dean was trying to withdraw himself for some reason, though they both had to know that they were bound to just keep romantically clashing with each other. He was going to ask about the sex. It had been rather fruitless and albeit childish to keep avoiding the conversation whenever it was just another one of those inevitable things they'd have to talk about at some point in their lives. It would be getting it over with. It would be the right thing to do in order to even have a sliver of hope in getting back to the real way that it was, despite the fact that Castiel didn't necessarily want that. Then again, he couldn't just trick himself into thinking that Dean was actually going to take a relationship seriously. He had to think in broad terms, as always, and he had to think about small details as well. He had to think about what was best for the both of them. Something in him said, 'You're perfect for each other' but the more rational part of him knew that that was just himself, trying to convince him into thinking that Dean would ever want something like that with him. Maybe Dean didn't like the sex, and that was why he wasn't bringing it up. He wouldn't be surprised if he heard him and Benny talking about how it was the "worst I'd ever had." It was his first time, anyway. Could you blame him?

Well, yes, you could blame all of that on him in that case. He didn't want to think about their stupid, spontaneous, wonderful time together for any longer now. He was just getting angry at himself for not making Dean talk about it right after instead of letting him go to work and most likely spread rumors about him or something. He really was such an idiot sometimes. Dean seemed to always know what to say, even though Castiel usually ended up not saying anything at all. 

Though, maybe Dean was just afraid of commitment. That would make sense, wouldn't it? Wait. He wasn't supposed to be thinking about this anymore. No-- he just couldn't. He couldn't allow himself to.

Castiel killed the engine abruptly once they'd made it back, and Dean now seemed in such a rush to be in their dorm for some unknown reason. For who he was, it normally wasn't very hard to read Dean Winchester, whether it be his expressions or his feelings in general. Dean, in all actuality, wore his heart on his sleeve most of the time. Bared his teeth when necessary. But, now, his mind was a blur of bewilderment and excitement and he couldn't stop for anyone or anything, confused by himself and confused by his environment-- confused by the person he thought that he knew best. He got out of his beautiful, practically new car before locking it and walking up behind Dean. He seemed to be holding the door for him, so he accepted the gesture openly, thinking it was platonic enough for things to not--

... Get weird.

Suddenly, Dean was holding onto him, making him almost immediately halt and look at the other man, in a flurry of thoughts and confusion. Maybe this was another kiss, an apology, a 'thank you', a... Something. Anything.

And it was not so.

Castiel watched on in bewilderment as Dean ran off again, as if getting on that red flannel shirt had to start now. As if it would take hours, and those hours were better spent on that. Anything but with Castiel, who seemed to be a toxin, even to the touch. He couldn't stand himself to begin with; it was harder to see everyone think of you in that same way. Everyone whose opinions mattered to Castiel, anyway. He opened the door on his own and shut it, locking it behind him and sighing before taking his shoes off and leaving them by the door. He stood there for a moment, recollecting himself and analyzing the situation. They actually had more time to spend here than Dean was probably comfortable with-- it would be best to just leave him alone, probably. He walked into his bedroom and shut another door behind him, softly.

 

Dean was freaking out quite a lot, sat on his bed, staring at the wall and twisting his phone in his palm. He was being stupid, he knew that, but he couldn't stop his heart from pounding with something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Anticipation, eagerness, fear? Dean wasn't sure. Whatever it was, he didn't like it. It made him feel uneasy. Dean cursed himself and paced the room a little, wondering if this whole situation could have been avoided if he just kept it in his pants. That's always the solution, he was slowly beginning to find. But then again, if he hadn't kissed Cas and then slept with him, he may never have felt this feeling of love he was feeling right now. Love, no. Dean killed that thought before it was allowed to develop into anything more. For a moment, the Winchester was planning on calling Jo, either to tell her everything about him and Cas, how much he was falling in love with his best friend, or to bail. In realistic terms, it was more likely to be the latter option. Dean Winchester, running away from responsibility again, go figure. He pouted as he threw his phone aside, watching as it hit the floor with a thud. The Winchester pulled off his clothes and went to shower, getting rid of the dirt and grime that had built up over the day. It was cold back in his bedroom, and there was still no sign of his best friend. "God dammit," he complained as he wandered over to his closet and began sifting through the clothes. 

This was new. Dean had never stood in front of his closet picking out an outfit for more than ten seconds, as a general rule. He wanted to look good though, and he knew full well that it was because he wanted to impress a certain Castiel Novak, hopefully so they get to repeat what they did the other day. Oh, what Dean would give to have a naked Cas in his bed again. It was shockingly addictive; feeling the touch of Castiel's skin against his own, and now Dean was hooked. He finally settled on a pair of snug jeans and that red flannel shirt. It was new, and he remembered Castiel telling him how much he liked it when he'd worn it for the first time about a week ago. It was odd that Cas hadn't come to knock on his door, considering how late it was getting, but perhaps he had to shower and get dressed too. The thought didn't even cross Dean's mind that Castiel could be avoiding him. Had Dean done anything wrong? Probably. For one, he was giving mixed signals, Dean knew that, but he couldn't give Cas a clear answer about what he wanted if he didn't know himself. 

Dean lingered outside Castiel's room for a long while, torn between knocking and simply walking away and waiting for Cas on the couch. When had he become so damn indecisive? Dean finally knocked, the hammering on the door sounding similar to how his blood was pumping hard in his ears. When he didn't he a reply, Dean simply pushed into the room. He froze when he saw Castiel sat in his boxers, obviously still getting ready. It wasn't a big deal, Dean had seen Castiel in his boxers close to a thousand times since they became roommates. But now it was so different. Dean's dick gave an interested twitch in his boxers as Dean's eyes ran appreciatively over the smaller boy's toned stomach and strong arms. Cas was like a statue, beautifully sculpted by the most talented of artists. That was why Dean was currently blushing like a damn schoolgirl who'd just held hands with her crush. Dean cleared his throat, after staring for longer than was platonically acceptable, and brushed his fingers through his hair which was a little heavy from hair product. "I came to see if you were ready, but you're obviously not..." Dean said quickly, licking his dry lips. Why was he so freaking nervous? "I'll just go and wait in the lounge." Dean added, though he made no attempt to leave the room. He stared at Castiel for a moment longer, stepping forward and brushing his fingers back through Castiel's hair and smiling softly at him. "Be ready in ten?" He asked, feeling that Castiel's hair was ever so slightly damp from where he'd had a shower. He very nearly leaned down to kiss Castiel on the lips, but he stopped himself, ripping himself away and sauntering out of the room, going to sit on the couch.


	9. Tightrope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party. Almost a confession.

Castiel could handle being alone better than not, which was a sad reality to live in, considering that the media and whatever else perceived long-term relationships to be more of a bigger goal for the average American. Technically, you could get by on multiple, frequent, and obviously temporary partners, so as long as you were gaining the same fulfillment from that as you would with a longer-lasting one (or, you could at least trick yourself into thinking that things worked this way, even whenever they didn't.) To hopefully distract himself from what he wanted almost painfully badly, he took a shower. Maybe his mind would drift off somewhere else.

It didn't, but it had been worth the effort. He scrubbed himself, but only washed selective parts of his face in particular. The fact that he was subconsciously doing this was a mixture of surreal and embarrassing. How was he supposed to tell Dean that he wanted to pass the time in between events just like how they did previously? He wouldn't be surprised if it never happened again, simply because he was too afraid to ask. With a towel clinging to his waist, he walked back into his room to change into something, blow-drying his hair all the while. He figured that a pair of boxers would suffice in the meantime; it was better than nothing, anyway. He sat down on his bed for a moment, trying to brush his hair into cooperating. It proved to be nearly impossible, but at least he did try. He left the now only slightly damp hair to dry on its own as he checked the weather on his charging phone. No predictions for rain. He only felt partially pleased to see that. Maybe rain would give Dean an excuse to stick around longer after they come back from the party-- if he isn't hammered with his arm around a girl, that is. 

Suddenly, his eyes flicked up to his closed door, where he heard a knock. He was going to reply, knowing that it was Dean, but something in himself didn't allow it. Maybe it was his heart thrumming in his ears that overwhelmed and distracted him. He only watched as Dean seemed to invite himself, and he felt stuck on his bed, exposed. Witnessing the very flustered expression on the other man's face, he wanted to reassure the other. After all, Dean probably just wanted to sleep with him again, and that was all. "You're.. I.. It's... Okay.." He said, but it seemed to be a little too late, as he saw Dean already turning away. He, quite frankly, was still hung up on feeling Dean's hand in his hair. This was just as bad as being two long-distance, horny teenagers, except Castiel was most likely the only one aroused in this situation, they were not teenagers anymore, and they certainly weren't long-distance. They were excruciatingly short-distanced. In somewhat of a rush to at least catch Dean in the living room before they left, he put on a pair of black skinny jeans, as usual, with a greyscale Pink Floyd t-shirt under a black hoodie. He knew he would have to go back outside to retrieve his shoes, so he did, glancing over at the figure on the couch before going near the door to do so. As Castiel laced them, he shook a little, making him mess up on the right foot twice. Thankfully, he didn't think that Dean could see him at this angle.

 

Dean had been thinking a lot in the short time he had to himself on the couch. Yes, he was feeling something more than greedy lust for his best friend. Yes, he was terrified by that fact. And yes, he was definitely going to make a move on Cas tonight. The very thought made Dean smile bashfully to himself, excited by the prospect that something may just happen between them. Of course, there had to be some consent on Castiel's side too, he wasn't about to force himself upon Cas when Cas didn't want it. Oh god, what if Cas didn't want him? Dean felt his smile drop slightly, but then his mind was transporting him back to the café, to those kisses, to the intimate hug that occurred in the parking lot. Oh, Cas wanted him. 

Dean looked up as Castiel came out of his room, wearing those damn skinny jeans that hugged him in all the right places.Fuck, was Castiel's ass always that perky? Dean quickly realized he was staring at Castiel, slack-jawed and, frankly, in awe. He wondered for a moment if that was actually Castiel's shirt, or if it was one of his. The possessive part of Dean hoped it was the latter. He seemed to have no control over his movements as he got to his feet and followed Cas to the door, watching him as he laced his shoes. "You're a fucking idiot sometimes," Dean said fondly as he watched his best friend struggle with the laces. "Here," Dean grabbed Castiel's wrist and tugged him to the couch, plopping him down and crouching in front of him, pulling his foot onto his lap. "You're bloody useless sometimes, you're lucky you're a handsome son of a bitch." Dean flirted, tying the lace for the other and winking at him as he placed his foot back on the ground. Their eyes locked for a moment and there it was again; that lusty passion between them that just begged to be acted upon. Dean would wait until later tonight, he had to. After all, Dean wasn't sure he'd be able to make a move without at least a few beers in his system. 

The moment was shattered when Dean cleared his throat and got to his feet, hearing Castiel's phone going off. "You should get that, it might be from all those admirers you have." Dean teased, fetching his leather jacket and pulling it on over his shirt, stuffing his own phone, wallet and keys into the pockets. Although they were taking Castiel's car, he thought the keys were important, especially if Cas came home without him, god forbid. Dean really hoped they'd be coming home together, at least. The elder Winchester swayed his hips slightly as he went to the front door and held it open from his best friend. "C'mon trouble, answer the blasted text when we get to Jo's. She's going to be asking for my balls on a silver platter if we don't get there in the next five minutes." Dean was a little intimidated by Jo, that much was obvious. Then again, most guys were, apart from Victor who somehow managed to tame her slightly. They'd been together for over a year, so it was pretty serious. Dean couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he got with Cas. Would it be a long term thing? Would they last a year? More? Dean had to shake the thoughts from his head at Castiel joined him and he locked the door behind them both, wandering towards the car and starting the short journey to Jo's dorm. They could have probably walked there, but driving was just so much more convenient.

 

Castiel was more than able to tie his own shoe. He was also more than able to pull back and refuse what Dean was doing for him, but it was sort of endearing. He liked seeing the other man like this-- a gruff exterior, but he then made it almost painfully obvious that he cared about him. While he couldn't wait until Dean could openly express it, he was okay with this for now. By the way that time felt, the party coming up seemed like an almost overwhelming event. The whole day, all of their movements that seemed to be carefully and particularly choreographed by fate, if that even existed at this point. All of this for... What was it that was going to happen? Castiel had no idea who else was going to be at the party, other than Jo and apparently Chuck. To them, it didn't seem that big. But, to he and Dean, it was like they were getting ready for the end of the world or something. It almost made it look like they were over-dramatizing every movement they made, like Shakespeare. Why couldn't he just behave normally, without letting these long staring contests go on? Like how there was one commencing right now. He didn't know how to feel about it, but one thing he did know was that it wasn't normal. Had anything been normal today? Castiel thought about the car, the cafe, and... Of course, the sex. It was poetically stimulating, in a way. But, this poem would be like if by the beginning you were having an orgasm and then somebody punches you in the face, right before abruptly kissing the wound and then continuing to whisper sweet nothings between tiny pinches. He wasn't sure if poetry could even do that to a person, but that's what it felt like, at the very least.

The small vibration of his phone made him snap out of this certainly strange train of thought. His eagerness about going to this party in the first place made him almost want to ignore it, but, Dean seemed to think that the message was more urgent than whatever they had going on at the moment.

 

[From: Balthazar]

_Hello, Cassie! I'm assuming you got my messages. See you there ;*_

 

Castiel was more confused by this than any of the events of today, by far. He chose to pretend to reply to it, though he didn't, locking his phone and putting it back in his pocket afterwards. That was... Somewhat unsettling. Where was he going to see Balthazar? At the party? How would he even know about it? Why? These thoughts clouded his mind as he was suddenly sitting in his car again. He turned the key in the ignition, making his best efforts to stop being concerned about the Brit and more about not hitting anything on their short way to Jo's. More quickly than he had anticipated, he was now parked. He took a deep, settling breath before exiting and staying on-guard for Balthazar. If he did see him at this party somehow, he wouldn't even know what to do. Instinct would tell him to go home and bring Dean with him, but.. What if he followed him? He couldn't exactly deny that he was a bit frightened. 

 

Dean drummed his fingers on the dash as they drove to Jo's dorm. They could already hear the loud music blasting from the windows and it made Dean grin. He loved these kind of events. They allowed him to lose himself in a haze of alcohol and music and sweaty, gyrating bodies. Just what Dean needed. Dean's smile faltered slightly when he looked over and saw Castiel frozen in his seat, a ghostly shade of white. Cas looked freaking terrified. Dean's mind (his own worst enemy) automatically assumed the worst and thought it was because Cas was worried about being in there with him. Had it really got that unbearable for Cas to be around him? But then Dean was sensibly shaking the thought from his head, reaching over to tilt Castiel's chin towards him. "Hey," he said, his voice hushed and his eyes warm. "It's cool, I know these things aren't your scene. We don't have to stay that long if you don't want to." Dean reassured. His thumb brushed over Castiel's lower lip with a teasingly soft touch, before Dean's hand slipped away gracefully. "By the way, those jeans? Totally hot. If you don't get laid tonight, I'll be surprised." Dean didn't look at Cas as he said it, instead he smirked as he stared out the windscreen. Hopefully, me. He slowly climbed from the car, waiting for Cas near the hood. 

When Cas joined him, Dean was quick to place his hand on the small of Castiel's back, seemingly so he could guide Cas towards the dorm. In actual fact, Dean just yearned for some kind of physical contact with his roommate. God, it felt good to touch Castiel, whether it was platonic or not. Dean never wanted to stop touching Castiel. "Relax, I'm with you," Dean whispered to the messy haired boy as they stood outside a door with loud music seeping out from underneath it. How Jo didn't get noise complaints was completely beyond Dean. Dean pressed a kiss to Castiel's temple without really thinking about it, but quickly recoiled from Castiel as the door opened to reveal the bubbly blonde. 

"Winchester! Took your time," Jo complained as she reached out and hugged Dean close to her chest. She was wearing a tight black dress that cut off way above her knees and scooped down to reveal a decent amount of cleavage. Victor was one lucky guy, that was for sure. Dean would never make a move on Jo though, they were too close, it would just be weird. That was maybe part of the reason why he was having trouble accepting what he was feeling for Cas, because they were so close they were practically brothers. Dammit, Dean. "Vic is already on his eighth beer, I think... Or was it nine? I lost count." Jo said as she giggled, already pretty drunk it seemed. "There's like... I dunno... A lot of people. I'm more popular than I thought. Lisa's here," Jo snorted and winked at Cas before looking back to Dean. "That means my bedroom is off limits, Dean." Jo patted Dean's cheek before gripping Castiel's hand and dragging him into the dorm. "Looking good Cas, someone's trying to impress." Jo trilled as they all got sucked into the crowd of people. 

Dean rolled his eyes as he shut the door behind them, not impressed that Jo had insinuated that Dean was only out for a good fuck, with Lisa at that, in front of Cas as well. He followed after the pair, waving at a few people he knew as he kept sight of Castiel's messy hair amongst the people already sufficiently drunk enough to not care about who they were grinding up against. Jesus, it's only just past eight. Dean caught up with Cas and Jo, tutting when Jo left them at the drinks table to go and make out with her boyfriend, having absolutely no regard for anyone else at the party as they attacked each other's mouths. Dean picked up a beer and opened it, passing it to Cas before picking up his own. "I love how much of a great host she is," Dean muttered jokingly to Cas, taking a sip of his beer and winking. "So much grinding going on in this room right now, fuck." He murmured, more to himself, though he was sure Cas could hear him. "I saw Lisa, but I'm not going for her tonight, Cas." Dean felt the need to reassure his roommate, stroking his fingers through the hair above Castiel's ear and sighing slightly. "I don't feel anything for her, not anymore. My priorities have changed." Dean whispered, taking his hand away and taking another sip of beer. He was braver at parties, it made him feel invincible. "Get that down you, and we can dance." Dean told Castiel as he pointed to the boy's beer. Dean finished the rest of his in a few gulps, picking up a bottle of vodka and pouring it into a red, plastic cup, downing that too. He winced a little at the taste and laughed dryly. "C'mon," he urged, grabbing Castiel's wrist and yanking him into the throng of people. It was now or never, he guessed. He was too invested in Cas that he didn't even notice Balthazar entering the dorm, scanning the room. 

 

Castiel was never one for parties of any sort. Not even as a child. They were just too loud, and too populous-- too much for him to take in all at once. College parties, as he could definitely imagine, were infinitely worse than anything Dean could have dragged him to in the past. There was alcohol here, legally (unless it was stolen somehow, which he just didn't want to particularly think about), and there were more than 20 people drinking it. In a closed, small space. In a dorm, no less. And the music just made the talking louder. The talking made the music have to be turned up louder, too, until it was all just some screaming mess, the apparently good old-fashioned dorm room party. How they apparently should have been. How Castiel should have apparently been enjoying himself at this event. Those were the reasons why Dean's words had been so important to him at the time. He just understood Castiel, just as Castiel understood himself. At least they could be on the same page with that, if they could be on the same page with anything anymore. Though, while he was given the option as well as the opportunity to leave early, he knew that he would stick it out for as long as he could physically stand it for the sake of Dean. Because, yes, as much as Dean knew Castiel hated parties, Castiel knew that Dean loved them. He practically fed off of the energy of a party as if he could store it and use it as his own. It wasn't a drug or an addiction (or, that's at least as much as he understood it to be), so it wasn't like Dean was actually surviving off of parties. He just liked to enjoy himself at these social events, and Castiel could respect that. The small compliment had him blushing and grinning already. Yes, the secret behind his jeans must have been obvious-- the intention was that exactly. To maybe-- just maybe-- get Dean to lower his standards for another hour or so, in a bed. It wouldn't even have to be a bed; it could be the floor for all that Castiel cared... And that should have been a sign as to how much he was submerged into this problem. He wasn't trying to linger on any of the touches that gave him small little injections of arousal to hit his gut periodically. No, he wasn't in the mood for thinking about how the pad of Dean's thumb felt against the sensitive,then barely-quivering skin of Castiel's lower lip. He could not even allow himself for a split second to let his mind go back to how Dean's lips pressed against his head at one point, before the whirling madness of the dancing and the pushing and the heavy scent of drinking hit him like a semi truck. Dean's hands and lips were constantly on him, if he thought about it. The hand that ghosted his lower back on their walk up to the dorm, his soft reassurances that amounted to nothing in this case. The breath that made the minuscule hairs on his neck and near his ear stand alert. The way that Dean handled him when the two of them were just alone (and sometimes whenever they were in public, even) could sometimes make his senses dim, even subconsciously. Once he did find himself thinking about it, when he was immersed in a pool of bodies, he sort of spaced out into it. Into Dean's palms and fingers, his legs and proportional feet, and the chiseled features of his face. The fact that they had both been talking to Jo had almost skimmed over him completely, and the course of events was fluidly escalating. There was something that he remembered from the conversation-- something about sex, implications of Dean and Lisa.. Was there something he was missing here? He couldn't refute how it made him deflate a little bit inside (and hopefully not noticeably on the outside.) He tried to focus more on Dean's lower voice than anything, which was right by his ear. A comfortable feeling in all of this uncertainty. 

His priorities... Oh. And he was still sober. He was very sober. For now, anyway. At the instruction to drink, Castiel put the white rim of the red cup to his lips and pretended to, making it look as real and as believable as he could. He then stretched to set it down at a nearby windowsill, out of Dean's sight. He then let Dean guide him to.. Wherever they were going, to do what he assumed-- to dance as vulgarly as the other patrons. 

Balthazar was tempted to text Castiel that he had arrived at the party, but it seemed rather fruitless. He figured he'd just pop up and surprise him. That would be nice. He was already mingling about near the front door when he spotted a familiar tuft of jet black hair, consecutive to the notorious hairdo of Dean Winchester's. With a confident grin, he began to maneuver through the crowd in an attempt to get to them. He was so excited to see his Cassie's reaction to him being here-- hopefully, maybe there was still time to convince him to come back to Paris with him, too. Hopefully, yes.

 

Dean wasn't the best dancer on the planet, but he could certainly move his hips in such a way that jaws dropped and, most of the time, panties followed. He wasn't drunk enough, not yet. The vodka was slowly getting into his system, but Dean could go through half a bottle and still be able to stand relatively straight. Maybe that was a good thing, it meant he could take control of what he was doing here. Dean didn't even ask for Castiel's permission before he was spinning the other so his chest pressed firmly against Castiel's back. "Loosen up, Cas. You may actually find that you enjoy it." Dean told his roommate, sliding his hands down to Castiel's hips and using his own to sway them together in time with the music. This was completely inappropriate and so far from platonic it hurt, but Dean figured no one would pay attention to another pair of sweaty bodies rubbing against each other in the haze of the party. "Cas, we need to talk," Dean whispered, knowing this was the worst moment to bring up their friendship... Relationship... Whatever the hell this was. "Cas, I've been thinking about you a lot-" Dean murmured, pressing his lips to Castiel's pulse point and kissing gently before he even realized he was doing it. Fuck. 

Dean got a hold on himself and sighed. "This is a bad time, we can talk later. I promise we will talk." Dean murmured, spinning Cas back around in his arms to look him in the eye, smiling fondly at him. Dean opened his mouth to say something about how he wanted to be the one to sleep with Cas tonight. He wanted to be the one to rip those fucking jeans from Castiel's hips. But then a tap on the shoulder distracted Dean, and he turned to see Jo holding out a shot to him, winking at Castiel when her eyes traveled back up from where they'd somewhat drunkenly examining where Dean's hands were placed. Winchester's hands on Novak's hips, hm, interesting. Jo wondered that if she'd left them long enough, they'd have been kissing or something. But that was ridiculous. Dean and Cas? They were practically brothers. Jo leaned in close to whisper to Dean, giggling as she went up on her tiptoes. 

"Stop flirting with your roommate, Dean. Dance with me instead." She insisted as she waved at Cas and grabbed Dean's hand, attempting to pull him away from the boy he was still grinning at widely, to no avail. 

Dean held up a hand to tell Jo to wait a minute before cupping the back of Castiel's neck and pulling him close. For a second, it looked like they were about to kiss, but then Dean went to Castiel's ear instead, having a hard time making himself heard over the pounding music. "Meet me in Jo's room at ten thirty if you want to... Y'know... Come home with me." Dean said, keeping a firm grasp on Castiel's elbow with his free hand. Dean chuckled slightly, his warm breath tickling at Castiel's skin. This was the easiest way for Dean to figure out what Cas was thinking. If he showed at ten thirty, it meant that he wanted something to happen between himself and Dean. If he didn't show, well, Dean would be gutted. He couldn't even comprehend what that would mean. Dean would feign nonchalance when in actuality it would ruin him. Dean hadn't factored in the whole Balthazar thing, still not knowing his nemesis (it sounded harsh, but Dean despised the Brit) was in the same room as them right this moment. 

Dean looked Castiel in the eye and winked, downing the shot that Jo had handed him before managing to convince himself to walk away from Cas. It was no easy feat when Cas began to look even better when Dean's beer goggles began to develop. Dean followed after Jo, teasingly smacking her ass and earning a thump in the shoulder from the blonde. She stopped and stood in front of Dean, beginning to sway her hips and push backwards. Dean, being a male with strong instincts, placed his hands on her waist and began to move along with the music, closing his eyes and getting completely lost in the noise. 

This was good; it was so loud he couldn't even hear himself think. No swirling thoughts of Cas and blue eyes, messy hair and soft skin, just Cas. The possibility that Cas may just show in Jo's room made Dean's heart stutter slightly. This was Dean Winchester leaving the door open slightly, just a crack, enabling Cas a one off opportunity to maybe, just maybe, start something between them. If Cas was as smart as everyone made him out to be, he'd jump at the chance. But still, Dean didn't get his hopes up too high. Maybe Cas didn't want that, though that would make Dean even more confused by the way Cas was acting towards him these days. Something had shifted, that much was obvious. Whether it was for the better? Well, that went unanswered. Dean's eyes fluttered open as Jo tugged on his arm to get his attention, telling him something about being thirsty and dragging him unwillingly across the makeshift dance floor to the drinks table. Dean tried to scan the room for Cas, and couldn't help the twinge of disappointment he felt when he couldn't see his best friend. Oh well, Dean was sure he'd be okay somewhere. Hell, he might even be enjoying himself. With that thought in mind, Dean let Jo pour them more tequila, and drank it all down, trying to wash away those blue, blue eyes. 

 

With what Castiel had a feeling that Dean was going to do, he didn't have to ask. He let the other man guide him with fluency. His hips weren't used to this kind of handling, this kind of treatment-- it was strange, but nice. Tender. For some reason, it reminded Castiel of sex. Maybe that's what it was supposed to do, because, in comparison to everyone around them, they were taking their time. They didn't appear to be as violent or vicious as these people. And then, there were words he'd waited so long to hear, even if this wasn't the place where he had exactly anticipated them to start coming out. If Dean was saying what he thought he was saying, it would sound to him like he did want something serious... He stayed quiet. They were so close-- a sentence away, a few words away from being what he now knew they both wanted to be. They both wanted this. Though they missed it, by just barely. "Okay." He said in response to Dean leaving another promise for him. Maybe it was a sign of weakness that he couldn't say it himself, but that would just mean neither of them were ready to be saying these things to each other anyway. There was a time and place for everything, and Dean seemed to be more or less aware of that than Castiel was. Suddenly, he was facing Dean, just like how he wanted to. Keeping eyes locked like they did in bed. He just wanted to blurt out that if anyone was going to go to bed with him tonight, he'd want it to be the older Winchester. Even if this applied for any and all situations, for now would do. But, he refrained from speaking most of all because it looked like he was about to say something. A fragment of a second away from vocalizing, they were interrupted. 

Castiel liked Jo as a colleague and friend, but she had the worst timing. Especially whenever she was drunk, apparently. The faint but all too apparent smell of alcohol overwhelmed him at first when Dean had pulled him too close. Too close for him to know what was happening, but close enough for him to know that he should be tilting his head a little-- or not. He felt a blush begin to spread as Dean's mouth got closer to his ear instead, his noticeably deep voice leaving vibrations, and in turn making Castiel fairly aroused. But, now, he'd have to wait until 10:30 if he wanted to be honest and talk with Dean. He supposed he could just wait around (and watch Dean dance with other people, which he didn't particularly want to do... Mainly because those hips were his.) It couldn't be that hard. 

He nodded only slightly before watching the two walk off. Nothing was going to stop him from being jealous, even if Dean had practically explicitly said that he was interested in Castiel tonight. Even if Jo was in a faithful relationship. He was just a little scared, too, because he was being left alone with a strange threat hanging over his head. He was supposed to see Balthazar tonight, somehow. With bated breath, the man supposed he would get lost in the crowd. It wasn't that bad, once you looked past the constant grinding and loud noises. Finally, he made it to a wall, which was by the short hall that lead to Jo's room. Perfect. He could wait here indefinitely, and just keep checking his watch. A little less than an hour and a half wasn't too bad. He'd lost sight of Dean by now, but he was assured that he was probably having fun. That was good enough; well worth it.

By the time Balthazar had made it to the spot in which Dean and Castiel had been dancing previously, the two had already went separate ways. Who was he supposed to go to first? Should he confront the foolish mechanic, or his destined (obvious) soulmate? This question weighed on him for a few minutes, before he realized that Dean had probably ran off with someone else he knew, leaving Cassie alone and vulnerable. He went the direction of where he assumed the man to be, and...

"Cassie! I don't know if you got any of my messages!" He yelled over the beat.

"Uh..I didn't think you'd... Actually be here,"

"Well, here I am!" He shrugged a little before taking Castiel's hand. 

"Let's go somewhere a little quieter."

"Um... I suppose we could--"  
He found himself inside Jo's room an hour early, the music and the people muted far more than they should have been. "I see that your wardrobe is as good as it's always been. It's nice to know you were trying to impress me, love." He smirked, and Castiel furrowed his brows. "Well--"

"Shh. No need to explain yourself." He soothed, before he turned to lock the door.

"What are you doing?"  
"Don't talk to me with words, Cassie. Talk to me with your body." His voice must have dropped at least an octave. Castiel's pulse began to pick up, and it wasn't because of arousal. It was mostly the opposite. He saw Balthazar stepping closer to him.  
"N-No, I'm waiting for someone-- I can't-- I don't want--"

"Hush, it's okay." 

Suddenly, Balthazar's mouth was on him, and he was sober, but still bitter. Bitter because it just didn't feel right. He brutally shoved the other man away, and he stumbled back, nearly hitting the wall. But, that was just about all that Castiel could really find it in him to do, because he was shaking, anxious because he was locked in here. The Brit only laughed a little in that deep, disturbing voice. "Didn't know you like to play rough."

"I'm not playi--"

"Two can play at that game."

He smashed their mouths together again, and Castiel made a noise of disgust. Balthazar was pushing him back onto Jo's bed, and, no, this wasn't how this was supposed to go. Fuck. He was holding Castiel down, thinking that he liked it when Balthazar took control, when he would really only be okay with that sort of thing if it was with Dean. This wasn't what he wanted.


	10. Aquarius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short and not as sweet.

Dean was more than a little tipsy by ten fifteen. Jo had managed to convince him to have a good few tequila shots, which apparently, when mixed with a ridiculous amount of beer, led to Dean being completely smashed. He was propped up on a table, scanning the room for Castiel once more. Where the hell was that son of a bitch? Dean hoped to hell that Cas hadn't bailed on him. That would mean that Cas didn't want him, and Dean couldn't deal with that when he was sober, let alone completely and utterly drunk. He pouted and checked his watch again, getting bored of waiting for the minute hand to tick round to half past. This wait was so damn tense, and Dean hated that he hadn't said an earlier time. He could have been curled up with Cas right now, having post sex cuddles in his bed, or maybe Castiel's bed. Hell, Dean would have been happy with the couch or the floor. It didn't matter as long as they had each other. "Where's m' Cas?" Dean slurred as he looked over at Jo. 

Jo patted Dean's shoulder and shrugged slightly. "I don't know, sweetie. I do know that you are completely piss drunk and I'd be a terrible friend if I encouraged you to drink anymore." Jo said, actually beginning to sober up slightly. She kind of had to, because Victor never let them have sex when she was ridiculously drunk. Something about a bad experience where Jo actually passed out on him halfway through. Jo couldn't exactly remember, but she took his word for it. "Damn though, Castiel's jeans tonight, they're hot." Jo said, trying to get a reaction from Dean in order to more fully understand what the hell was going on between the two boys. 

Dean simply shrugged. "He's always hot, Joanna Beth." He managed to say as he rolled his shoulders, feeling a little dazed and dizzy. "Me 'nd Cas? We totally fucked." Dean admitted, picking up another beer and pouting when a wide-eyed Jo plucked the bottle from his fingers. "We had sex and now I want to have sex with 'im all the fucking time. I jus' want Cas." Dean whined, brushing his hand over his face and grumbling slightly. 

Jo just about managed to regain her senses enough to place a hand on Dean's knee, squeezing gently. "It's probably got something to do with the fact you two both have huge crushes on each other and have eye sex all the freaking time." Jo said fondly, before she suddenly had a horrible realization. She'd seen Cas with Balthazar, wandering back towards the bedrooms, and she'd never seen them come back out. Cas wouldn't be cruel enough to sleep with Balthazar, would he? No, that certainly didn't seem like Cas. Still, Jo felt the need to warn her best friend. 

It was too late, though. By the time she turned to talk to Dean, the Winchester had gone and was walking towards the bedroom. He jiggled the handle a little when it wouldn't open, before getting impatient and using his shoulder to barge through the door. Dean wondered what would have happened if he'd simply have waiting for someone to answer, perhaps then he wouldn't feel as crappy as he currently did. Nothing could prepare Dean for the sight in front of him. "Cas?" Dean asked in confusion, suddenly feeling a lot more sober than he wanted to be. His roommate, the one he was about to take a risk on and finally open up to, was pinned beneath a familiar Brit. The amount of clothes was very, very limited. To the extent that there was actually none visible except for those fucking skinny jeans in a pile on the floor. "You fucking faggots." Dean spat, unable to stop himself from doing so. In pure rage, Dean launched himself at Balthazar and pulled him off of Cas, thrusting him against the wall and looking at him with barely-focused eyes. "You douchebag! Give me one good reason to let you walk away from here." Dean demanded, leaning down to grab wildly at Balthazar's clothes and thrust them at him. "Fucking leave!" Dean yelled, his head feeling light from the shock, and maybe a little because of the alcohol. 

Dean looked over to Cas, seeing how wrecked Castiel looked. His hair was all over the place, just like it had been when they'd had sex. Wow, what a huge mistake for Dean to make. He'd been delusional to think that this could work. Dean looked over his shoulder at the crowd of partygoers who were now trying to get a glimpse of the action. Dean couldn't be angry at Cas, he just felt numb. Dean robotically reached for Castiel's clothes, throwing them unceremoniously at his roommate. "Put some fucking clothes on. I want to go home and I'm too drunk to drive. I'll be waiting by the car." Dean mumbled, his words still slightly fuzzy as he finally met Castiel's blue eyes, his heart breaking slightly. Without another sound, Dean turned and pushed out of the room, threading his way through the crowd and staggering back to Castiel's car. Cas didn't want him, after all. All Cas wanted was someone to fuck him, at least, that's what Dean thought. Well that was fine, Dean could fuck people like a bunny. Still, they needed to talk, but preferably when Dean was able to think cohesively, right now he just wanted to sleep. He sat on the front of Castiel's newly modified car, staring at the ground as he waited for Castiel to join him, not caring about the curious eyes currently on him. 

 

Castiel wasn't even sure how it had all happened. Balthazar was stripping himself of his clothes, and then Castiel, and his limbs felt like liquid. He couldn't move, paralyzed by the fear, paralyzed by the fact that there was nothing his could do. There was nothing. He felt muted in every single sense, and he was just glad that Dean had broken in and stopped Balthazar before he could actually start to fuck him. He was trembling, not being able to really move even after Balthazar had been pulled off of himself. He just remembered the word 'faggot' coming from Dean's mouth. Again. This was all because of him. This was all his fault-- all of the heartache and pain-- maybe he deserved this. Maybe this feeling of violation would put him in his place. He didn't remember sitting up to watch Dean walk away yet again, but he did, covered up by his clothes.

The only thing he knew to do was just cry.

10:30 on the dot. He could have done something to stop this. He could have done something, and now Dean hates him. He should be thanking the man, though. He'd almost been completely defiled and, well, raped, after all. Naked, on another bed that wasn't his, he drew his legs up to his chest and sobbed. Nothing else could come out of his mouth. Not any prayer, any curse. Just strangled noises of anguish and regret, fear. He didn't know how long he sat there. He didn't know how long it would take for him to forget this. Maybe it would have been better if he had gotten drunk-- maybe that would have allowed him to forget. But, now, this was engraved in his mind forever. He didn't want to go out to the car and face Dean. He didn't want to leave this room, because he didn't want to face reality. He had to get Dean home, though. He had to do something. With hot tears still streaking his cheeks, Castiel stood on shaky legs, putting all of his clothing back on and feeling like he could go away from all of this instead of going on. Why would he want to go on, anyway? He had been so close, only to lose everything-- Dean's trust, any hope of a relationship with the only man he'd ever loved, and a very good portion of his dignity. Fully dressed and still feeling so wrong, like there was some new layer of dirt on his skin that couldn't be scrubbed away, he walked out with his head down, past everyone and everything, quaking and quivering and trying not to make his erratic breathing noticeable. 

And he had been so close.

It could be worse, he supposed. Maybe Dean would forget this in the morning. He sort of doubted it. For the short-term, he was crossing his fingers that Dean's senses were so dimmed that he couldn't realize how bad Castiel looked. At least he wouldn't be able to see the bruises on his wrists from where Balthazar had held him down onto the mattress, the couple of scratches on his arm, and his red, tear-soaked expression. The lack of sunlight could hide that away for now, when it mattered. He got into the car without another word, only hearing Dean get in shortly after and waiting to hear the other click of a seatbelt before beginning to drive back to their apartment, back to Hell, where he knew he would not get a minute of sleep. He felt his phone vibrate, and he didn't make an effort to even flinch in the notion of checking it. He would block Balthazar's number when he got home. He chose to ignore the three tears that had dripped down onto his steering wheel. He chose to ignore his own pain.

 

The drive back to the flat was silent, painfully so. Dean kept himself to himself, his thoughts now louder than ever before.Cas didn't want him, Cas didn't feel the same. Dean sighed and closed his eyes, hoping it would help. It really didn't. All Dean saw behind his eyelids was Cas, but not just Cas. He saw Balthazar with his stupid hair and smug grin, and it have Dean the urge to punch something. Instead, the Winchester clenched his fists and tried to calm himself down. Getting mad wasn't going to sort this out and, unfortunately, Dean had a feeling alcohol wouldn't either. 

When they finally arrived back at the apartment, Dean was vaguely aware of the fact that his roommate was crying. He probably feels guilty. Dean did the worst possible thing; looked at Cas. Even with the vast quantities of alcohol sloshing around inside him, Dean could see the red-rimmed eyes and the tear trails, but he couldn't see the bruises, that would be something for the morning light to uncover. Right now though, instead of seething, Dean just felt ridiculously upset for what they had lost, or rather, what they had nearly gained. Without thinking, Dean reached over and wiped away the tear that was currently travelling over Castiel's cheekbone, letting his hand linger for the slightest moment. It was only then that Dean saw that his hand was shaking. 

With his hands to himself again, Dean took a deep breath. "I need to sober up, perhaps you should sleep in your own bed tonight." Dean said quietly, sliding from the passenger seat. It was interesting; the use of the word perhaps. It turned a demand into a suggestion, merely suggesting that Cas slept in his own bed. Dean would blame the alcohol in the morning, but for now, he really couldn't be mad at Cas. It seemed stupid, the idea that Castiel would want to intentionally hurt Dean, even if they didn't have a relationship blossoming between them, they'd never want to hurt each other. This whole situation just felt wrong, and it reeked of manipulation. Dean couldn't push the feeling away and it made him feel nauseous. 

He just about managed to let himself into the dorm, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his jacket. Dean was tired and aching, and, more than anything, he just wanted to sleep. The fact that he wanted to sleep in the same bed as his best friend, no matter what had just happened between them, was completely irrelevant. Still, it didn't explain why Dean was currently wandering to Castiel's room as he struggled out of his clothes. Soon, Dean was in his boxers and sliding into Castiel's bed, curling up around one of Castiel's pillows and facing the wall, his eyes wide open. This room smelled so comforting, of pure, unchanging Castiel, and Dean felt safe and warm... He wanted Cas to climb into bed with him and tell him it was all going to be okay, having no clue about the ordeal that Cas had faced today. Dean was feeling selfish, not even knowing if his roommate would catch on to what he was wanting him to do. It was for that reason that when he heard Castiel wander into his room, Dean quietly demanded (and it was a demand this time) that Castiel stayed with him. "Sleep here," Dean whispered, looking over at Cas for the shortest of glances. He didn't want to seem needy, but he was drunk and would figure this all out in the morning. "Cas, stay." Dean urged, no longer facing his best friend, but instead, laying on his back with his eyes closed. Trying not to think of those blue eyes and the teardrops dripping from them. The elder Winchester hated seeing his best friend cry. 

 

Words stained the inside of Castiel's cheek, burning and he wasn't sure if he'd ever stop crying. Once he did make it into the apartment, his conscience was louder than ever in his head, viciously sweltering blisters forming in his brain like a tumor. Maybe he had been living some vicarious life for too long, even if he had had all of these new sexual and romantic experiences along the way to this, what it all seemed to build up and ultimately amount to. He could never love you now. Why would he do something like that? Who could love someone who cheats? It hadn't been Dean that ended up in a stranger's bed with someone other than Castiel; it was the other way around, for the completely wrong reasons and at the even more wrong time. Castiel thought, if Dean had walked in any earlier or later, it would be more than clear as to what was going on. Or, maybe the man had been too drunk to realize it just then. Maybe his life was full of too many 'maybe's in order for him to truly live it.

When he heard Dean say that perhaps he should sleep in his own bed tonight, Castiel couldn't honestly agree any more. Although he was going to leave out the part in which he simply would not sleep, because he could not sleep, it was good enough to just lay there and hope that something would happen. He prepared for bed with little regard for where Dean had gone. Brushing his teeth alone, washing his face alone, getting a glass of water alone. He had never felt more alone while surrounded by billions of people, in fact. Even if he was currently in a good situation right now, financially-- and he was living with his best friend, in a good part of town, with a good job and a good schedule and good eating habits and a nice little ache in his shoulders from which his ex-friend had pushed into them, hard. There weren't any comforting songs that would help him through the night, not this time. Not even if Dean himself would sing them. There wasn't any quick fix for this kind of trauma, no comfort food or words of the wise to ease him along. 

Some people had it worse, didn't they? Of course. Why was he complaining so much whenever there were starving children? Those people needed help more than he did. What was he thinking? He was just another ant. Another soldier, another shotgun shell in God's or whoever's hunting game. He didn't bring his water with him, hating how it made his shaking more than obvious with the quivering of the water at the top of the glass. He was also afraid that he'd drop it. 

So, he went to bed empty handed, not noticing the other patron currently inhabiting it until Dean had spoken faintly. He had just gotten out of his jeans then, feeling a little safer in the dark and where it didn't smell like French cologne. This was confusing, but he supposed that he didn't really want to be alone tonight. Without a word for the fear that it would come out ragged or pitiful. That was the last thing he wanted.

He sat up in his bed instead of sinking into the sheets, his legs brought up close to his chest and his face buried and covered in an effort to pass off as just thinking about the night's events, rather than crying about them. He couldn't wait until he ran out of tears, because this was getting a little bit out of hand for him. He just couldn't stop. It wasn't that bad, it shouldn't have been that bad. But he couldn't stop.


	11. Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things can change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of songs in this. I'm going to list all of the ones we mentioned later. At the end, maybe?
> 
> Disclaimer: I mean it when I say that you should NOT listen to The Last Hour, I Didn't Understand, or I Better Be Quiet Now by Elliott Smith. Those songs are the only songs that can make me cry.

Dean was quiet for a long time, surprisingly not feeling that comforted by Castiel's presence. The bed was shaking slightly with the intensity of Castiel's tears. Dean had sobered up enough to figure out that something here was seriously wrong. Something had really upset his best friend and it made him feel uncomfortable. With a quiet sigh, Dean sat up too, looking at his friend with his head tilted slightly to one side. Castiel's whole body was curled up, and it made Dean's heart ache a little more. It was at that moment that he realized that he cared too much for Cas for this to be classed as a normal friendship. Dean opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't find the right words to say. He reached for Castiel's arm and tugged at him, making him uncurl slightly. "Cas?" Dean whispered, seeing how Cas was  _trembling_. "It's okay, I'm here and I'm not mad at you." Dean tilted Castiel's chin up, gently running his thumb over Castiel's slightly stubbly jaw and examining those blue eyes. They were so damn wide and the pain that flashed behind them was so familiar to what Dean saw every time he looked in the mirror. 

Without another word, Dean laid back and forcibly tugged Castiel down to lay with him, making sure Cas was curled up against him rather than curling in on himself. The last thing he wanted was for Castiel to pull away from him now when they'd worked so hard to get to this point. Dean didn't relax until he felt the press of Castiel's head against his chest, his skin getting damp from those rogue tears travelling down Castiel's cheeks. "Hey, it's all okay, Cas." Dean whispered, pressing a kiss to Castiel's hair. They'd figure this out in the morning, both putting forward where they stood where this whole  _feelings_  situation was concerned. For now, Dean was still not sober enough to have a deep conversation but he wasn't drunk enough to let his best friend suffer all alone. Dean fingers trailed over Castiel's back, feeling how Cas was taking deep, heaving breaths. This wasn't right, it hurt Dean to see Cas so broken. The Winchester couldn't see the scratches or the bruised wrists in the dark, but when he found them, he was going to be angry. Balthazar had crossed a line here that could never be redrawn. 

"I'm not angry," Dean repeated somewhat lamely, almost like he was trying to convince himself. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a few steadying breaths, slowly letting himself sink into the mattress as he felt himself being dragged towards sleeping by fatigue. Out of all the possible ways tonight could have panned out, Dean never thought they'd end up like this; curled up together in Castiel's bed, with Cas crying and Dean feeling empty. Cas wasn't calming down, and Dean didn't know what else to do other than hold him close and try to help him relax a little. Dean gave him a gentle squeeze and tugged the covers up around them a little more, making sure that they were nice and safe, away from the outside world. Dean didn't say anything after that, unsure what to say, and somewhat knowing that whatever he did say would sound small and stupid and insignificant. 

Only one thing passed Dean's lips as he fell asleep against his will. They were the final statement of a lost man before he was taken to the land of slumbering oblivion. Dean would deny the words ever slipped out, that was a certainty. But they definitely came out as a shy and barely audible whisper. 

Those words had the power to have prevented the hurt caused to his best friend. They had the power to change everything, possibly for the better.

Those words meant more than anything, as they were whispered to a broken-hearted boy.

" _I love you, Cas._ "

 

Dean's consistent words of reassurance made Castiel wish that they were enough to make him stop producing these annoying tears. That, coupled with the spontaneous spooning should have made him stop. And, he wanted to. He wanted to believe that Dean holding him could make this trail of ridiculous tears come to a stop, some way, somehow. More importantly, Dean wasn't mad at him. That emotion had been very hard to read right now, as Castiel thought that Dean didn't want anything to do with him. He could understand if they had both thought that about each other. What a blatant, obnoxious mess this was. Heartbreak couldn't give either of them a rest.

_I love you._

But, Dean was drunk. It was hard--  _very hard_ \-- to tell if he meant it or not. But, he was intending on soothing Castiel. Maybe he said it just to say it, not because he meant it. That happens sometimes. All of the words up until this did nothing, held no water. Held none of his tears, save for the firm skin and bone of Dean's chest. Fate, as he would have it, was telling him to sleep, too. Then again, what was fate, if not a malicious fairy with too much time on its hands? Following Castiel around and ordering his destiny to take all-new turns for the worse. It made him not want to have faith in that, or anything, for that matter. 

  
_I love you_.

But, he loved Dean too. He loved him too. He couldn't say he didn't, but the lump in his throat made it so that he couldn't necessarily say that he did, either. Not right now. Perhaps the crying subsiding was enough to let the other man know. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Dean's jaw, his heart rate slowing and somehow syncing up with Dean's fairly easily. He just kept thinking about it, his eyes wide and barely blinking. If he was conscious enough to pick up on the fact that Castiel was heavily upset, did that mean that he could say what he said consciously as well? Did that mean that, more importantly, he meant it? That he could finally make this work, even after all that he's said and done before? The blue-eyed adult found doubt to come more immediately to him now. Dean could not have really wanted him like that. He'd ask in the morning. For now, there was a good chance that Dean wouldn't even remember saying that, which would mean Castiel could swallow his fear down and reply in a hushed murmur.

"I love you too, Dean."

He trusted himself more, knowing that that was a fact at the very least, and he let his eyes slip shut, the 'it's okay's helping him the more he remembered Dean's voice, remembering Dean saying them. Love brought them together. Fear brought them together. So it seemed, but comedy and tragedy would not, and could not, separate the two of them. They were bound together by love itself, maybe. Or, it could easily be the simple prospect of companionship that made them get along so nicely. Tomorrow morning, maybe Dean would know to sing the ending song from that movie instead of the song from the part in which Sally thinks that her and Jack can't be together. Truth be told, their relation to each other was nothing like that. T _ruth be told..._ Neither of them could stand being apart. It took everything for the man to keep from sniffling or returning to ragged breathing. Memories were still too fresh in his mind at the moment. 

 

The morning came quickly for Dean, along with a thumping headache, dry mouth, and a jumble of memories that didn't seem to fit together. He knew where he was, instantly, and didn't freak out about it. Somehow in the night, Dean and Cas had got themselves tangled up so it was almost impossible to tell whose limbs were whose. Dean had a tuft of dark hair pressed up under his nose, his lips pressed to warm skin. This was how it should be and Dean was somewhat happy that, despite everything that had happened, this was how the night had ended. Dean groaned as his head pounded and reluctantly pulled away from Cas, feeling too damn cold the second he lost the body contact. The Winchester brushed Castiel's hair from his forehead as the smaller man snuggled back down into the pillows, letting out cute little mumbling sounds. The smile that stretched over Dean's lips was a genuine one. 

It faltered slightly, however, when Dean saw the purple bruises on Castiel's wrists. Dean didn't need to be a genius to know who caused them, and also,  _how_ they were caused. A wave of anger crashed over Dean as he stupidly reached down and brushed his fingers over the swollen skin, seeing Castiel's face screw up a little, even while he was sleeping. "That asshole," Dean whispered to himself, absolutely seething by this point. Dean remembered back to the first time he'd argued with Cas over his sexuality, how Cas had told him that Balthazar had forced himself upon him. The memory made Dean's head hurt even more.  _Crap, Balthazar was going to rape him_. Any bad feelings Dean felt towards Cas at that point melted into nothingness as he looked back down to Castiel's slumbering form. Dean couldn't be here when Cas woke up, that much was obvious. Unfortunately, Dean was sober enough by the end of the night to remember drowsily muttering those words to Cas.

_I love you, Cas._

Damn, what was Dean thinking? In the list of great ways to fuck up a friendship, admitting you  _loved them_  was probably pretty high up there, in Dean's opinion anyway. He grumbled under his breath and leaned down to press a kiss to Castiel's cheek before sliding out from under the covers and grabbing Castiel's bathrobe, pulling it on and tying it round the front. Cas wouldn't mind, Dean was sure of it. He found a scrap of paper and a pen, intending to write a note so Cas didn't think he'd run off in the morning:

_Hey Cas, I'm making breakfast. You looked like you needed a little more sleep, so I left you to it. We still need to talk, but only when you're ready. - D x_

Dean left the paper on his abandoned pillow and wandered through to the kitchen. Cas was going to need a good, hearty breakfast, as was Dean. Oh god, right now, a greasy fry up was just what the doctor ordered for Dean's stinking hangover. Dean never really understood why he drank so much. He hated the effects of alcohol, especially not being able to remember things, yet he still drank himself silly. Perhaps he got that trait from his father. The very thought made Dean's skin crawl and he dismissed it quickly.  _You are not your father, Dean. You are a better man._ Dean had a hard time thinking he was a good man sometimes, but he knew he was better than John, not that it was a particularly hard thing to achieve. Dean was lost in his own little private would as he took bacon and eggs from the fridge, getting ready to make a cooked breakfast for himself and his best friend. The best friend he told he loved last night. Ugh, what an idiotic thing to do. Dean wasn't ready for a relationship with Cas, and was still reluctant to cross that line. He didn't want to lead Cas on though, which was essentially what he was doing. What a disaster. 

 

Castiel had awakened to empty arms, an empty bed, and aching wrists. The back of his head pulsated rhythmically, recalling all of the poorly-executed events of the night. He wished that his wrists could be numb, as opposed to be hurting this much. It was especially distracting because he had to move his wrists and arms for nearly everything. He was weary, and afraid, but he could hear that he wasn't alone. The rays of light forcing and shoving their ways down to their window irritated Castiel's all-too-heavy eyes. 

He was so tired of waking up with nothing. 

The young man sat up after a few minutes of gathering  himself, squinting against the newly found brightness. Upon examining his bed further, he noticed the scrap of paper lying on the indented pillow beside his own. He studied it for a moment, holding it delicately as if the object could feel his hands.  _Oh._ So, what did he remember about last night? More importantly, what  _didn't_ he remember? Castiel was now much too eager to get out of bed and see Dean immediately. After giving himself a full-body stretch, the man set the note back where he found it. He supposed that what he slept in last night was acceptable to walk around in (well, both of them had been around each other in less than that, anyway,) so he went outside in his current state. He hadn't even looked in a mirror yet, but he couldn't care much less. Dean had woken up before him, so he probably saw the marks and all. 

Castiel still had the memory of Dean's words fresh in his mind, as he brushed his teeth and further on. He so desperately hoped that Dean remembered what he said in reply, at least. Or else he'd have to get the courage to say it again, and he wasn't sure whenever that would be. He wanted change so badly-- he was  _conditioned_ to want change. That's how everyone was. And, if Dean somehow didn't mean it; or if he couldn't forgive Castiel for letting Balthazar "talk to him," even if he didn't know that  _that_ was going to happen. It amounted to be his fault. Everything did, and the only thing to do was to have acceptance of these things. He spit out the light blue foam his toothpaste concocted inside of his mouth. Castiel then filled up a cup of water and rinsed his mouth out effortlessly. He then washed his hands and dried them efficiently, stepping into the small hall of their apartment and making his way to the kitchen lazily. He was greeted by the nice image of Dean in his robe, standing in front of the stove, which sizzled with whatever he was making. From what it smelled like... Bacon was apparent. He wasn't positive about what else. Then again, food wasn't what was particularly on Castiel's mind this morning. Sitting down at the table, he watched the slightly taller man for a content minute or two before saying, "Hello, Dean."

Of course, he was nervous. Even if he wanted to talk about this and get it out in the open, there was a good chance that Dean himself was the one who wasn't ready. That's the main reason as to why Castiel was compelled to wait. But, he also knew that it would be in both of their best interests to stop trying to hold off the conversation. 

 

Dean had heard Castiel enter the room and instantly tensed. He didn't turn straight away, waiting for Cas to make the first move to say something, concentrating on making breakfast instead. He put on the coffee maker and played up the bacon, eggs and toast. "Almost forgot the coffee." Dean muttered as he placed the plate in front of his best friend, pouring him some coffee and placing that in front of Castiel too. Dean smiled softly at his roommate, trying to cover up the obvious awkwardness between them. "I made it the way you liked it, thought you might appreciate it after... Yeah." Dean's smile faltered as he looked to Castiel's wrists and then cleared his throat. He couldn't pretend everything was okay here, because it so obviously wasn't. 

Dean had been best friends with Cas for a while now, he'd never seen Castiel cry properly, only at a stupid sappy film. Last night was a real eye opener and, frankly, it was slightly terrifying for Dean. He took a sip of his coffee and eyed his breakfast. Suddenly Dean didn't feel hungry anymore, just sick. "Listen... Yesterday at the party... I don't know what I said to you, I just remember you and Balthazar and..." Dean brushed his hand through his hair and groaned slightly, having a bad feeling that he called Castiel a fag again, he had a habit of doing that. Dean pushed his plate away and stared Castiel straight in the eye. "I didn't mean it Cas, you have to believe that, I was just so angry because I thought that maybe you felt the way for me that I feel for you." And there it was. There was no big declaration of love like last night, it was simply Dean telling Cas how he truly felt. "I was planning on letting you take me home and we could, I don't know, talk or something. Then I saw him nearly having sex with you for the second time and I felt like my world stopped turning Cas. I've been trying to convince myself that it wasn't jealousy, but it's so pointless because I was so fucking jealous, and I just don't know what to do about it. I shouldn't be feeling like this about you, wanting to hold you whenever I'm near you, wanting to kiss you and  _fuck_... I don't know." Dean closed his eyes and turned his head away, his voice breaking slightly. "I saw the bruises this morning and I realized that he'd tried to rape you, because that's what happened, wasn't it? It makes me want to throw up because I can't bear to think of anyone hurting you, because I care so fucking much about you. More than a friend should. You've got to help me out here Cas, because I can't be the only one who's ever felt like this. Just tell me you feel this too. Because, fuck, I keep having these dreams about you and me and how we could be together and how I could wake up to your beautiful eyes every morning, but then I get scared that I'll fuck it up, and I have to come to terms with that every time I open my eyes and see that you're not there." Dean felt like a stupid sap right now, and wondered how he was still sat in his seat, not sprinting to the bathroom to throw up, or out to his car to drive far, far away. That's what Dean was good at. Dean opened his eyes and looked at Castiel, dropping the walls for the first time ever and letting Castiel see everything; the fear, the love, the need. "Every time I close my eyes, I see you. You mean everything Cas." Dean whispered, shaking his head. "It's so stupid, because I know that you deserve so much better and I can't have you. It hurts so much to think about, but it hurts me even more to think that I could potentially ruin this. I don't do commitment, I simply can't. I can't do  _this_." Dean pushed his chair away from the table and began to pace, needing something to keep him grounded as he got too deep for his own good. "I want to fucking kill Balthazar for hurting you, but maybe he did us a favor. What would have happened if I went home with you? I'd have convinced you to sleep with me and then you'd tell me you loved me when you fucking don't and then I'd be lost. I want you so much, but we can't do this Cas. You can't let me hurt you. I won't do that to you." Dean was breathing quickly now, getting himself panicky as he eyed the door, wondering if he could dash over there before Castiel had a chance to stop him. "I can't do that to you." Dean brushed his hand over his face to wipe away the tears he hadn't even realized had formed. He was making this harder than it needed to be. But Dean couldn't let himself have Cas. He simply couldn't.

Castiel was Dean's best friend, but he was so much more too. He was the stars at night and the fall leaves that Dean found strangely beautiful. He truly was everything to Dean, and Dean was willing to tell him that as truth tumbled from his lips, completely raw and unfiltered. Dean looked over at Cas again and felt something tug at his heart as he pulled off Castiel's robe, getting prepared to fetch his own jacket and run from here, as far away as he could possibly run. "I'm in love with you Cas. Shit. I love you." Dean sobbed as he let the robe fall to the floor and his cheeks got damp again as he cried. "But you don't get it. This is what's best for you, I only want what's best for you. I don't want you to get stuck with me. I don't want you to get broken." The Winchester tried to explain as he slumped back against the counter, not expecting this outburst he was currently having. His head still throbbed and the tears were making it worse. "Sometimes I think we can just love, but we can't. I can't do that to you." Dean covered his face with his hands and took a few shaky breaths. 

 

"Dean."

It was a slow progression of things, a tiny throb of panic for each syllable that poured out of Dean's mouth, and it just kept coming. Castiel didn't understand why Dean had to always run away from these confrontations, but... He did. He did get it. He must have thought that, somewhere along the lines of things, they went wrong. Castiel couldn't tell if that was accurate or not, but it only seemed to him like Dean kept fleeing and avoiding and disconnecting himself from what could be because he was just so afraid. He was so afraid of hurting what he had nurtured over the years in a not-completely-platonic way. 

When he saw the opportunity to, Castiel approached Dean in his slumped, defeated, messed form. He had to reach out, before he gathered the strength to pull back and leave. What was good for Castiel was Dean's presence. What was good for him was not this constant separation, not this constant fear of oblivion and this fear of loneliness, as if the stars themselves frowned down at him each night he would look up at the ceiling and feel empty. For all of those consecutive nights, and then this crashing storm and roar of emotion and physical contact, it must have been so much for Dean to take in. It must have been too much. He had to be here to show Dean that it was okay, that everything was okay. That they were allowed to be together right now. They were financially stable, they were okay, they were okay.

They were okay.

Castiel's consciousness was a scratched record at some points now, with everything that was happening. With the hand he took inside his own, offering shelter from salty, warm tears to fall upon. "This can happen." He promised in a shaking murmur. "We can be together, and you don't need to worry about anything, Dean." Because love was all about taking risks. If you can't do that for yourself, you can never have anything you'd want from a relationship. If you can't take that stereotypical leap of faith... Then there was nothing for you in love. A lot of the time, it is just a fine-pointed shot in the dark, and you can never know if this is all there is for you. But, if you're happy, you should let yourself be happy. If you want to be happy, you can't expect to put no effort into it and have things fall into place for you. Love is a battle, love is a war-- love is a growing up.

Castiel was putting all or nothing into this. He was going to try, because  _when you've got nothing, you've got nothing to lose._ Lyrics and quotes circulated through jumpy, hyped, anxious veins, yet he did not and could not let any of that show right now. 

"This is not me being stuck with you. When I'm with you, I'm happy. I know you feel the same way. When I'm with you... Dean, if I wasn't happy with you, if I was some form  of  _stuck,_ I would have left a very long, long time ago. I wouldn't have put up with it." There was a full tremble with every movement that Castiel made, so he planned to stay still, but to stay close. He didn't care about the bruises and the marks in this light. He could only care about getting his point across right now. 

"Being acquaintances with Balthazar in the first place was a mistake. He was one of the many I've made over the years, because I am not perfect, Dean. Neither of us are, and that's what makes us work.  _That_ is how we're able to live with each other so easily, and that is how I love you. If there wasn't any risk in a relationship, it wouldn't be anything true. The imperfections in ourselves-- they carry on, into what we could have, into what we have the ability to have. Relationships... Are not perfect. No matter what you see or hear, they are nothing like people want us to think. But, in the end... If you love me, and you let me go, that just means you never tried in the first place. If you think that's right... It just isn't. Please, just let us have this. Please don't leave-- don't leave. I know you want to. But, don't." There were tears coming from Castiel as well at this point. Uncontrollable, and yet he wasn't making an effort to wipe them from his face. He just let them fall.

"I.. I believe that you are perfect for me. Not-- not  _to_  me. We're both human beings, with kinks to work out, and with-- with our own needs, and... I love you. I want you to stay, because I love you. I love you, Dean." If Castiel had to say it over and over again for Dean to understand that he was wanted and needed and loved here, he would. "I want this." He lightly reminded the other man, being so close, keeping a hold on his hand.

And  _oh God,_ they could really have something if Dean wouldn't shove him off. They could salvage something from the two broken and bruised hearts they'd both developed over the years of both of them refusing each other, something that was too good to be real. 

Dean let out a broken sound as Castiel told him he loved him. He let Castiel take his hand and squeeze it tightly, as if he was stopping him from leaving. Oh god, Dean wanted to run so much right now, he needed to. "You can't love me," Dean finally breathed, his breaths coming out juddering. "Cas, please." Dean looked at Castiel with watery eyes, seeing the same look reflected in Castiel's eyes. "Let me go." He begged, suddenly wrapping his arms around Castiel's waist and hugging him tightly. "I need you to let me go." Dean sobbed, pressing his face into the crook of Castiel's neck and clutching hold of the back of his shirt. "I need- I need you to-" Dean couldn't make a coherent sentence anymore. He tried to calm himself down as he embraced his best friend, his head spinning.

"Fuck, Cas. You don't want me. Don't tell me you want me. No one wants this, no one wants..." Dean trailed off and pulled back suddenly, looking in Castiel's eyes for a moment before he slowly leaned forward and pressed his lips to Castiel's, his fingers tangling Castiel's hair as he held him against his mouth, kissing him between the strange sobbing sounds. The kiss was slow and deliberate, seeming to convey to everything Dean wasn't able to get out at this moment. Dean scrunched his fingers in Castiel's hair and pulled away again, burying his face once more. "Please Cas. Tell me to go. Fucking tell me to go." Dean was so used to leaving everything and losing everything he loved. He needed to walk out right now.

He shook his head as he pulled away completely, walking out of the kitchen and finding his clothes, pulling them on quickly. Dean came back into the kitchen, his boots on and everything. He looked scruffy and worn, his breakfast going cold as it sat on the kitchen table, completely neglected. He needed to drive and clear his head. "Cas..." Dean walked over to his roommate and stopped about four steps in front of him. "You really love me?" Dean asked timidly, reaching out and cupping Castiel's jaw. He have Cas a sad look and dropped his hand. "You can't." Dean said as his voice broke. Despite everything Castiel had said, Dean still couldn't accept this, he wasn't gay, for one thing. He'd been brainwashed by his father from a young age, he didn't know any better. You break everything. "I need to clear my head." Dean told Castiel as he scrubbed the last of the tears from his eyes and found his car keys on the side, shoving them into his pocket. "I have to leave. I have to go" Dean was itching to get out of the apartment, not sure where he'd go, maybe just drive and drive until there was no more road. He would come back, of course he would, he couldn't leave his little Castiel. But he couldn't be here right now. "You need to let me go." Dean repeated as he closed his eyes and leaned forward enough to kiss Castiel's forehead, letting his lips linger for a while before pulling away and within a matter of moments he was out of the apartment and sat in his car, stroking over that familiar steering wheel before starting the ignition and beginning to drive. He switched on the radio as he pulled out of the lot and headed in whichever direction he wanted. Castiel's words spun in his head, I love you Dean. Dean's head hurt more. If you love me, and let me go, that means you never tried in the first place. Oh god, Dean wanted to try, but ultimately, somewhere along the line, he could lose his best friend, that's if he hadn't lost him already.

 

_You are the loneliest person that I've ever known._

_We are joined at the surface but nowhere else._

_I look in the glass and stare at your strained, grey, motionless face and ask:_

_Underneath is there a golden soul?_

_Take care of the ones that you love._

_Take care of the ones that you love._

 

Dean glowered at the radio like it was making this whole thing worse. Fuck that, fuck everything. As he stared out the windscreen, rain started to fall. The irony almost made Dean laugh, and maybe he might have done if he didn't feel so stupidly empty.

 

_Baby, I'm leaving here,_

_You need to be with somebody else._

_I can't stop bleeding here,_

_Can you suture my wounds?_

 

It was after he'd been driving for a good two hours that he realized he'd made a terrible mistake. The mistake hadn't been telling Castiel everything or breaking down like a sap. The mistake had been leaving the guy he loved, broken and confused on the kitchen tiles. The thought hit Dean at such a high speed that he swerved the car and had to pull over. He'd left the guy he loved. A guy who wanted this to work. Castiel loved him too, he was giving himself to Dean and Dean ran away. Why do you always run away? Dean chewed inside his cheek as he turned his car around and headed back in the direction of the house.

 

Cas, I love you too.

Cas, I want to be with you.

Cas, we can make this work.

 

Cas, forgive me.

 

At the point in which they met mouths, Castiel would have thought that it meant Dean was going to stay here with him. That Dean wouldn't storm off to God-knows-where, to drink and cry and whatever else it was that he did. For a fraction of a second, Castiel didn't feel so hollow in this kitchen. He felt a little bit of hope, before words got in his way and he went speechless as Dean's warmth turned to nothing.

And he found himself waiting again. Just as Castiel thought he had Dean back, he was caught with his tongue refusing to cooperate, with shaking legs eventually making him slide down to the cold floor at sit there, with his back against the wood cabinets. His face reflected nothing. His eyes were closed, so focused on not falling apart. He felt like he had sat there for days. All of Dean's dialogue running through him again and again, and how familiar it was to be hearing this.

Castiel, once again, returned his state of mind to where maybe he was meant to be alone.

 

_Here's the army that you mowed to the ground_

_And the bodies you left lying around_

_Talking it out_

_The last hour_

 

Castiel just stayed there, listening to music that had found its intangible way into his ears. It usually happened like that whenever he wasn't doing or feeling much of anything. It's that numbness that you feel when you know you have been so depressed for so long that it eats up your sensitivity to it. Elliott Smith was a heroin addict that died in his late thirties, but he was a beautiful singer and songwriter. At this very moment, Castiel wished so desperately that this man did not exist.

 

_I'm through trying now, it's a big relief_

_I'll be staying down_

_Where no one else gonna give me grief_

_Mess me around_

_Just make it over_

 

His heart hurt. His head hurt. Everything hurt, and, as much as he wished it didn't, he couldn't do anything about it. Dean was gone, and he didn't know if the man would stay gone. He hid his wrists from his own view, so that maybe he could stand himself. He didn't move, didn't touch the food on the table, even if he wanted to. He didn't know how long he stayed like this. He just stayed. Maybe he was crying. He didn't know. He didn't know.

 

_Your opinion was the law of the land_

_A single thing that I could always understand_

_I lived it out from hour to hour_

_The only thing that never really changed_

 

Was there a use in wanting to make this work if the other person wasn't willing to try at all? Somehow, yes, there was. Castiel knew that. With dimmed awareness to his surroundings, he waited. He waited for Dean, just like he knew how. Just like before. He could wait. He could be patient with himself. He could live with himself for however long it took until Dean would show his face again. And, maybe he would stay this time. That would be all Castiel could ever ask for. Maybe Dean would stay.

 

_You ran me all around_

_And dragged me down_

_At the end of the day_

_Don't keep me around_

_Just make it over_

 

Being alone didn't have to be permanent, and Castiel also knew the only person he'd truly want to throw away being alone for. Being alone wasn't a memory he wanted to keep. But, this was his way of trying. Waiting was his fighting. It looked like he had given up, but this was all he could do. He couldn't chase Dean around and force him to realize things. He'd have to come to terms with them himself. As the person who loved Dean, and who was loved by Dean, he knew that the other man would come around soon.

 

_I've been thinking of the things that I missed_

_Situations that I passed up for this_

_One-way love I took for ours_

 

Other times, Castiel could definitely be more skeptical of Dean's love. Maybe this was all for naught. It was impossible to tell. Castiel thrived on maybe and hopefully. Breathed in the dust of lingering stares and kept every shard of half-smiles to commit to memory, because he was such an ignorant and optimistic. It got a little excessive and ridiculous at times, but it was how he felt.

 

_I'm through trying now, it's a big relief_

_I'll be staying down_

 

Castiel ducked his head and kept his eyes shut, as if all of his current problems could just end up disappearing instead of there having to be any sort of fixes required to be made to them. He didn't know how he was going to react if Dean came back only to viciously reject him again. And what would he do if Dean didn't come back at all? He couldn't answer that question yet, either.

 

Dean appeared back at the apartment a little after five in the evening. It was pretty impressive considering he'd left at about eleven in the morning and hadn't really gotten anywhere. He'd driven miles and miles, only to end up back where he started. With an urgency about him, Dean fled from the impala and damn near fell up the stairs as he scrambled towards their apartment door, cursing as he tried multiple times to get the key into the lock. When he finally managed to push the door open, he was hit by a wave of guilt and concern. At first, he couldn't see Cas, and his mind started to formulate explanations for just why Cas wasn't there. He's left you, he's had enough and fucking left you. Dean's mind was a selfish and cruel thing sometimes.

Luckily, if that was the right term to use, Dean found Castiel curled up in a ball on the kitchen floor. Dean was overcome with a wave of self-loathing. How could he leave Castiel like that when he was so fucking vulnerable? Dean crouched in front of his best friend and pulled his chin up to meet his eyes. "Cas?" He whispered, his voice hoarse from the countless tears he'd shed during his drive. Eventually the tears had been replaced with dry sobs, and then ceased altogether. For that, Dean was thankful. "Cas, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." Dean collapsed onto his knees, letting the cold from the kitchen tiles seep through his jeans and make his shins chilly. He really couldn't give a damn as he wrapped his arms around Castiel and crushed him unceremoniously to his body. "I messed up, I shouldn't have left you. I love you, I want to make this work. Help me make this work." Dean urged frantically, kissing at Castiel's neck and jaw before getting ahold of himself and making himself calm the hell down. He sighed and moved away from Castiel for a moment, disappearing into his bedroom, only to return with the blanket from the end of his bed. Castiel felt freezing from where he'd been on the floor in his boxers for most of the day, undoubtably.

This was the beginning. Dean had already broken his best friend a little bit, that much was evident as he wrapped the blanket around Castiel's shoulder to try to warm him up the best he could. Of course, there were other ways of warming up, more physical ways which involved less clothing, but Dean had a feeling that neither of them were really prepared to face up to that just yet. He reached for Castiel's wrists, holding them in gentle hands and examining them when Castiel let him. They were swollen and bruised, and Dean wished he could make them better. He did what he could, which entailed him leaning down to press gentle pecks to the affected areas. Dean trailed his fingertips lightly over the wrists of his best friend, his voice hitching when he met Castiel's watery blue eyes.

 

_Lights will guide you home._

 

Dean wasn't lost right now, he felt like he'd found himself again. He had Castiel, a guy who loved him so much, that Dean wondered why he'd never noticed how obvious it was before. He'd been living a life of ignorance, and it really hadn't done either of them any favors. He silently wrapped Castiel's arms around his neck as he scooped up the blanket-clad Castiel in his arms and carried him over to the couch, sitting down and positioning the other boy so he was curled up on his lap.

 

_And ignite your bones._

 

Dean pressed a kiss to Castiel's messy hair, determined to make this right. He wondered if this is what true love was; loving someone so much that you knew you had to let them go to let them be happy. That's what Dean assumed. Then again, maybe Cas was right, it was about taking a shot in the dark, accepting that you may be wrong, but making that leap anyway, taking that chance. What was that saying? That you couldn't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. Dean sighed and whispered into Castiel's mop of dark hair.

 

"And I will try, to fix you."

 

He tilted Castiel's chin up and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, humming gently as he pulled away. "I'm not saying this is going to be easy for me, Cas. But I really want to give us a try. Maybe we could... Take it slowly. If you wanted, you can sleep in my room again and we can cuddle..." Dean stroked though Castiel's hair as he tucked the blanket around him more, thankful that Castiel was starting to warm up. He really worried about his best friend sometimes. "I shouldn't have run away, I'm sorry. I needed time to think, and I've thought about it now." He confirmed as he toed off his boots in order to get a little more comfortable. "I'm in love with you, and I want to try this out. If it doesn't work... We can still go back to being best friends, right?" Really, that's what this all boiled down to. Dean was afraid he'd screw up and lose the greatest friend he'd ever had. A friend who'd been there through thick and thin, who knew him more than his own brother did. A friend who knew exactly what to so when Dean was feeling low, and knew exactly what to say when he was angry.

Castiel was perfect.

"Promise me you'll put out friendship before any romantic entanglement, and I'll stay Cas." Dean said in a quiet voice, hugging Castiel close to his chest, just a tangle of limbs on the couch. "I'll never leave you again."

 

Every minute that passed in his little isolated, florescent world didn't feel like a minute at all. It didn't feel like anything. It felt like disassociation and not sadness, not fear, not anything. The nothingness is what got to him most. This was Castiel pouring his heart out, wholesomely and entirely, only to have Dean walk out on him like that. Maybe he just didn't care enough. Maybe this really was a lost cause. Was Gabriel right? For as many people that told him Dean was a good-for-nothing, Castiel seemed to only want to be with him more, because he knew that wasn't true. His Dean, not how anyone else saw him. had to have been perfect for him. He was sure of it, of course. He was so sure of it and himself. And then, when there was a catastrophe such as this, it whittled down that sureness, little by little with every numb moment. Until there was nearly nothing. Dean wasn't coming back. Maybe he'd starve here. Castiel thought about animals, he thought about how alike humans were. Both could be so dependent, and so easily, perhaps without even realizing it at first. He might have been cold, he didn't know. His train of thought was either too exact or too derailed on Dean, it was impossible to tell at this point. Hopefully he would feel cold soon, so that he could just get up and move on with his life in some way. It wasn't like Castielenjoyed having this time to himself. Not like this. His guards were shot down, but at least now he knew how to defend himself better. This will never happen again, he would promise himself that. Love was worth the world to some. Though, to others that weren't meant for love, like him, love was worth the air that everyone can breathe. Priceless, in a worthless way, because he never seemed to be able to extract love from love. Apparently, Dean thought he was too good for love. Whatever that meant. It could possibly be love from Dean himself that he thought Castiel deserved more of, but Dean's love was everything the black-haired male missed at this point. That was a good sign-- he could still miss things. Hope wasn't as far away from him as he'd originally thought.

Maybe he heard the door open. He wasn't quite sure. Maybe one of his bruised wrists convulsed a little. Maybe that was his whole body. Was he still crying?

Dean fell into his vision, in a particularly unreal way. That was him, undoubtedly. But why had he come back? Castiel listened to him. He didn't reply, because he must have looked so pathetic here, as if he'd just given up on life because Dean had given up on him. On their love.

Soon enough, he found himself gathering warmth incrementally, his body temperature slowly and naturally climbing. With Dean's sugar-coated words, being too good to be true for him and more often than not. But Dean never promised anything he couldn't do. The problem was that he expected Castiel to be able to rebound back to a friendship instantaneously, if their relationship didn't work out. That would be hard. Not too hard, probably, but hard. Mostly because he knew that he wouldn't want anything but this type of intimacy, because he was so much happier like this. He could speak for both of them to go as far as to say that they both were. At the same time, Castiel could see the other man's point. After whatever would have to happen for them to break apart, Castiel would take a barely-salvaged friendship over nothing. Though he could already tell that they most likely weren't going to encounter any problems such as that for a long time. Or, there was the possibility of them getting any possible fights out of the way immediately. Here came the risk.

Dean told him everything like it wasn't supposed to be leaving his lips in the first place, like he could only trust Castiel with these sounds. That could be true, if he was living out some crazy, empowered fantasy. He was slowly collecting and connecting himself, his limbs coming back to life, and he became self-conscious again. In a good way. He was risking himself here-- risking every breath he'd ever taken, for one man. He couldn't even begin to imagine the Christmas dinners, his family scowling over at the fact that Dean and Castiel were holding hands before Gabriel would crack some wise joke that Sam would laugh the loudest at, as if it was a competition. He wanted that so desperately, even if it was just for one year or less.

"I... I promise." He replied in a tone only audible because the two of them were the only ones here, practically listening so closely that they were at least acutely paying attention to one another's heartbeat. Castiel just hated it when Dean left. And-- this-- this was him telling Castiel that he would stay, purely because that was what he must have been fearing. Castiel didn't want this to be pure romance or pure sex, anyway. No good relationship was like that. Being best friends was an infinite plus to being in a relationship, because that meant you were most likely already so comfortable with this person. Things could be so easy that way.

 

With that promise, the world seemed brighter and everything seemed a little clearer. Perhaps it was because because Dean was finally allowing himself to have what he had been starving himself of for weeks, or months, or maybe even years. All Dean knew for sure was that by having Castiel curled up against his chest, he felt complete. The death of Dean's mother when he was a child saw a jagged hole form in the Winchester's soul. It was a large, gaping tear which left him broken in so many ways. Nothing could ever heal him, nothing could make Dean feel okay. But then came along Cas with his easygoing smile and his beautiful blue eyes.

That nothingness was beginning to be replaced with a warmth that Dean didn't even know was possible to feel. A warmth that reassured him that he wasn't alone on this planet, that he had something to live for, to fight for. Castiel Novak was his reason for existing. Dean knew his mother would be proud that he'd found his muse. Dean coaxed his fingers through Castiel's hair again, getting rid of the knots and tangles, and keeping his hands busy in the process. Dean was still freaking out slightly, and just needed to convince himself to calm down, that this was all okay. He felt Castiel's breathing get back to normal and smiled softly. "I'm not going to be introduced to everyone as your boyfriend, am I? That sounds mushy as hell." Dean tried to tease, making light of the stupid, depressing situation he had caused. "Partner, isn't that what queers such as myself call it?" Dean's hand found Castiel's hip and have a tight squeeze. Castiel had always been slim, maybe a little too slim, but it suited him and Dean wouldn't have him any other way.

Dean decided then, that's what love was.

It was knowing that the person wasn't, and could never be, perfect, but still giving them everything. As Dean stared at Castiel now, the smallest of smiles turning up the corners of his lips, he thought that Castiel was perfect for him. Cas was his happy ending that he never thought he would find, the lover he never thought he needed. He was here in all his messy-haired glory and Dean was stupidly, unequivocally in love with him.

Dean didn't care he'd missed class today, or that Cas had probably done the same, because something beautiful had blossomed today, and Dean was so damn happy that he was around to witness it occur. He felt over the exposed patches of Castiel's skin and brushed his fingers over the fading hickeys. He could make more now and no one could say anything about it because himself and Cas were romantically involved, finally. Dean cupped Castiel's chin and pressed his thumb to Castiel's lower lip, tugging it downwards slightly. "You're beautiful, Cas. I've always thought you were beautiful. You're like a damn angel with those blue eyes of yours. You're my angel, you've saved me more times than I can count." Dean admitted, holding eye contact with his best friend.

It took a while for Dean to convince himself that it was okay to kiss Castiel again. After all, Cas had said he wanted to try this out too, that he wanted it to work. That's why Dean was currently leaning down and pressing his lips to Castiel's. The kiss was slow again, lips dragging over lips at a tantalizing pace. But this kiss held some unspoken words, promises that only the two of them would understand. Dean was saying that he would stay. Dean's fingers tugged at the short hairs at the nape of Castiel's neck as he tentatively parted his lips and let his tongue slide into Castiel's mouth with little to no resistance. Dean rearranged Castiel on his lap so they were at a better angle to kiss in, ultimately with Castiel's knees on either side of Dean's thighs. The kisses became more hungry, more desperate. Cas was the oasis in a desert full of sand and lost hope, he was the finishing line at the end of a marathon, the lifeline keeping Dean breathing. "I've missed you." Dean breathed into Castiel's mouth, letting Castiel take from that statement what he will. It wasn't like Castiel had ever been physically away from him, but their souls had been separated like star-crossed lovers in tragic romantic movies that Dean refused to watch out of fear for his masculinity.

Dean pulled his lips away then, pressing them along Castiel's jaw, scraping his teeth over the stubble, before they settled at the joint where Castiel's throat met his shoulders. He hesitated before sucking the skin between his teeth and nibbled just hard enough to leave an impressive hickey blooming there on the pale skin. It was going to be a dark one, and the thought made Dean feel a little smug. Cas was his now, no one else's, especially not Balthazar's. Speaking of the British bastard, Dean's face softened as he looked up at Castiel again. "We don't have to have sex until you're ready for it. I know we've already... Kinda done it. But after what happened to you last night, I'm not going to force you into having full on sex with me." Dean explained as he guided Castiel's hand to his cheek and let the other feel the stubble Dean had unintentionally let form over the last few days. "I will never let myself hurt you like he did, and if I ever do, you leave me, okay? You leave me and you don't come back." Dean whispered, before smiling again to lift the mood and pressing another chaste kiss to Castiel's lips he had to stop thinking that the worst was going to happen and brave the good here. "Your brother is going to kill me." Dean uttered as he cuddled his best friend, the one with the battered heart and the broken soul, comforting him the best way he could; by simply being there. Something told Dean that they were going to be okay.

 

The pause in all of the moving they made was nice. The two of them could just sit here for a little while, not doing much of anything. It was definitely rare, since there was always something going on. There still was something going on here, too, as much as Castiel wouldn't like to admit it to himself yet. They found themselves in a position where nothing was more important than being enamored in and with each other right now. And, what was love without forgiveness? Castiel never considered Dean to be emotionally or physically abusive in any way, though there were some times in which he was a little stubborn or insensitive. A big step in this relationship was that Castiel was willing to be forgiving, and he was willing to be more lenient for the sake of their happiness. The imperfections in their lives not only made life itself more meaningful and joyful, but it also helped Castiel make more sense of the prospect of love he'd never opened himself up to before. Not truly. Of course, he preached what he believed in, so that Dean would better understand his point of view, but he didn't completely believe in everything that he said. not yet. He knew that he wanted to, but it was one of the harder things in this. He still thought that Dean could (and honestly should) abandon him at any given point again, and he would be alone again, with nothing to do. And it would be a bad thing, that time. He needed errands to run, work to do, in order to feel like he'd be making a contribution to himself and to the world, even if it was in a very small way. That was mainly why he owned a compost bin around the back of their apartment.

Castiel thought about how when some people were at very happy points in their lives. Some would say 'I can die now.' He never fully understood why someone would choose that. Wasn't it good to be at a point where you were that happy in order to drag it out as long as you could? Wasn't happiness the point of life in the first place? Castiel definitely did not want to die right now. He didn't want to die happy, or sad. Because, from what he'd heard, people die feeling pain and then nothing. Even if there is a calm before it all-- even if you are sleeping-- there is still that sting or ache. Whatever it is, he didn't anticipate upon feeling it until he was well into his 60's or 70's. Possibly beyond that point, if possible. Just not now. Anything, any time but now. But, he also liked to think that that hope people felt was just the thought of feeling happy before the pain, and then the nothing. He could respect that.

He came back to hearing and processing Dean's words. "Partners, yes." He laughed a bit as well. He could live with 'partner.' The word 'boyfriend' also seemed not to be serious enough to describe both of them. At some point, maybe 'partner' could become 'fiance.' He wasn't going to plan ahead, or get his hopes up, for that matter. Even if neither of them were getting any younger, they could afford to spend as much time as they could in order to nurture a healthy, functional relationship. Rushing it wouldn't make any sense, nor would it establish the same sense of trust. Since they had been living together and simply knowing each other for so long already, it wasn't as hard. That didn't mean it would take any less of an amount of time.

The small touch administered to the skin of Castiel's hip was just as much of a tease as Dean's words were, and he knew that that was another part of what the other man was. And he loved it. He'd think that he would get sick of it after putting up with it for so long, but he hadn't. That was quite possibly the hardest test of all, for any pair or group of people; putting up with them. Even after noticing all of their little quirks and habits, you help them and care for them, and live with them. The point of it all could be somewhat blurred at times, for Castiel, but he would realize its worth by the end of every day. Even before they started sleeping together not too long ago. It all turned out to be worth it.

Dean began to give him praise for no clear reason, making Castiel have both innocent and not-so-innocent thoughts develop around the reality of Dean touching him too intimately, and he knew that his pupils must have started getting bigger by now. Words couldn't contend with his thoughts, couldn't properly explain his feelings right now. For some reason, the kiss they shared didn't make him feel like he was here right now. His movements were almost instantaneous and commanded by something other than his complete consciousness. He liked it all too much, making that very apparent with the soft moan he made, muffled into Dean's mouth. He hummed appreciatively as Dean's lips moved down further, to the sweet spot on his neck. This didn't feel like it lasted very long, but Castiel could now feel the good kind of slightly wet bruise forming in the most lovely way. It was thoughtful of Dean to offer to put any of their immediate sexual experiences on hold until the majority of Castiel's traumatic memories faded away. Though, he knew that he could move on easily, and that anything he would do with Dean would only help him get rid of that extra baggage and move on. "Dean, I trust you. I-- I'm not terrified of sex, now. I just... All that you need to be concerned about, as far as that goes, is making sure that I never see that man ever again." He did his best to assure the other of this with a chaste kiss reciprocated. He laughed some more at the thought of Dean thinking that Gabriel was any sort of threat to their relationship, because he was honestly one of the most harmless people Castiel had ever come to have known.

 

Dean felt ridiculously comfortable, holding Castiel like he was the most precious thing on the planet. Maybe he was, to Dean, at least. He kissed Castiel's mop of hair and didn't even mind that it tickled his nose, making him want to sneeze. "Balthazar is never coming near you again, if he even tries, I'm going to make sure it's the last thing he ever does." Dean whispered, wanting his best friend - no, scrap that, partner - to be comfortable and safe. He wanted Castiel to feel like he could live his life without the fear of being pushed into a mattress or a floor, a wall or another piece of furniture, and have his human rights violated. Castiel deserved s much better than that. Damn, Cas deserved the entire world, the beautiful, wonderful world. Dean just wished he could pluck down every single star from the sky and wrap each one individually, with a little bow, and give them to Castiel so he could make his own, perfectly tailored universe. Dean already looked at Cas like he was a masterpiece in his own right, it had been like that for some time now, but now Dean was able to accept that he was doing it. Who could blame the Winchester? Was there anyone more caring, more devoted, more perfect that Castiel Novak? Dean couldn't bring a single person to mind.

Dean was looking at Castiel that way now, with his eyes full of something now easily recognisable as love. "I'm glad you trust me, Cas. You're probably the only person I trust except Sammy, of course." Dean stroked his hand up under Castiel's shirt and smiled as he felt hot, smooth skin. Though it was tempting for Dean to say that Cas was now his, he was reluctant to do so. For one thing, he was worried that if he spoke too soon, he would jinx everything and the world as he knew it would crumble to the ground. Not only that, but Castiel was his own person. Despite what people said about the messy-haired boy, about him being nerdy and quiet, and maybe a little socially awkward, Dean saw things differently. They didn't know Dean's Cas. The Cas that shouted the answers at the TV when they were watching Saturday night game shows, the Cas that once tried to smuggle a pet cat into the apartment without Dean realizing, the Cas that was bright and confident, and more than anything, the Cas that was currently curled up on Dean's lap, ignoring the rest of the big bad world. This was Cas, and Dean didn't want him any other way.

"I suppose, as your partner, I should be taking you places now." Dean said slowly and carefully, always watching Castiel's face to gage his reaction before he continued. "I mean, it does't have to be a date, dates are for saps. But we could, I dunno, see a movie or something?" Dean suggested, wondering what it meant to be in a proper relationship. If you wanted to know about sex, Dean was your go-to guy. If you wanted to know about a relationship that lasted more than two months, well, Dean wasn't exactly an expert. Even Sam had been in relationships longer than Dean, and that was just shameful. Dean was determined to make this one work though. Dean would give anything to get this to work. Oh, if only they could last until Christmas, then Dean would know that this was the real deal. This was Dean settling down, and the thought was somewhat terrifying. The lone ranger, no longer lonely, no longer wandering. Dean was found and eternally grateful for it. With a huff, Dean rearranged them on the couch so he was able to get to his feet and march off to his bedroom. He returned with an armful of pillows and his duvet, big enough for both of them to snuggle up under. "I've made a decision that we're not going to classes today. Instead we're going to spend all day watching crappy TV and stuffing our faces with junk food. How does that sound?" Dean asked as he plopped himself back down on the couch and put the pillows behind them. He practically manhandled Castiel onto his lap again, into a comfortable position, before tucking the duvet around them and sinking back into the couch. This was just like every other lazy afternoon they'd have together, except this time there wasn't a little gap between them on the couch, begging to be filled. It was just warm bodies pressed together like two puzzle pieces finding themselves slotting together to make the most perfect picture imaginable. Dean passed the remote to Cas and propped his head against the other boy's. "You choose," Dean whispered, and for once, he didn't even care if Cas put on a chick flick or one of those films that made him cry, because they were together, and that was the only thing that was important.

It had always been that way.

 

Castiel could not have been more honored to be here right now, to be laying around and doing nothing with Dean. All this sitting and talking and smiling and kissing that they did was much, much better than all the wandering and wondering and crying and yelling they used to do before this. Those feelings were all valid, in every way, but that did not mean that they were at all healthy. There were some feelings that people couldn't do anything to stop, and there were others that they could do without for most of the time. Castiel had had too much crying than it was for his own good, if it was ever for his own good in the first place. People talked about 'good cries' sometimes, where it was nice to just break yourself down every once in a while and cry out your frustrations and stresses. It was either that, or the good kind of tearing up that some people could get when they are overwhelmingly happy. He could allow that sometimes. Castiel believed the other man would hold true to his word-- no, he would never see Balthazar ever again. Maybe they could file a restraining order. That seemed like an easy solution to it all, but Balthazar seemed to feed off of the whole aspect of danger. He even appeared to fetishize it to some extent. He would much rather just lie here than deal with that mess, however.

 

 _People pressing my flesh, taking my time_  
They don't know a thing about my life with you  
I'm trying real hard, it's hard not to care  
'Cause all I ever really want to do  
Is sit around doing nothing with you, because  
Nothing's only fun when you're there

 

2004 roughly-respectable Descendents lyrics came up this time as the musical vomit running through Castiel's head like a carefully chosen segment of a song to serve as a part in the soundtrack of his life. No, not dreary Elliott Smith melodies, not loud or soft Radiohead. Not part 1 of Pigs On The Wing by Pink Floyd, but part 2 (if he could finally really say so for himself, it was what he waited for for a long time). He couldn't deny how much he loved music, and how much it tied into his life as being one of the most important components. Dean could shut his whole body up with a single touch-- he had that strange ability, among others. The man's warm and slightly calloused hand graced the skin of Castiel's abdomen in a way that threw off his train of thought, so as to force him to focus on the Winchester's meaningful and sober words. Trust was something that didn't come easily for Dean, as his father had taught him to internalize all non-masculine feelings, and then continued on to be a horrible father. That was from what Castiel could gather from the stories he'd heard of John, anyway. He was not a fan of that man's methods of parenting. It could have made more sense if Mr. Winchester had actually had a good reason to treat his children like he did, but Castiel (nor Dean, as he could imagine him being just as confused about what he'd done wrong) couldn't search for one, even if he was trying hard. This was another topic in which the two of them did not discuss, for it wouldn't help anything. The past was just the past.

Castiel silently looked up at Dean with acutely raised eyebrows, surprised at the notion of Dean wanting to take him places. He was suspicious of Dean's explanation, mostly because that did sound like a date. If it made the other man happier to not acknowledge the fact that they were boyfriends in more simple terminology, going on dates, then he could live without the words. He saw that Dean still wanted to be a man about this. Even if he didn't have to prove himself to Castiel (or anyone) in order for him to see that he was worth it, it was a nice gesture. To show that it indeed was, he gave Dean a sincere smile. He was trying in this relationship, obviously. Castiel had to hold up his end as well. "Of course we can." He murmured up at the other. "It-- it doesn't have to be a movie, either. We could go to a zoo, or a park, or something." He was just throwing around ideas, because those places were where people commonly had dates. For their case, he could refer to them as... 'Outings,' perhaps? That could work.

He let Dean re-adjust their positions yet again, settling against him without putting much thought or effort into the action, and he simply could not refuse Dean's decision. Because he wanted it just as much as Dean did. He took the remote graciously, turning on Netflix and immediately scrolling down to the show he loved more than anything (except Dean, maybe... No, definitely); The Twilight Zone. In its prime. He pressed 'Play,' wanting to start on the first episode.

 

Dean wondered for a long time who he'd fall for. Many placed their bets on someone like Lisa or perhaps even Jo. Both were respectable young women, both were smart and sassy, but they were never made for Dean. No, Castiel was the one made for Dean. Part of Dean even considered the idea that they were made for each other. Was that even possible; having two people formed amongst the stars specifically for one another? "The park," Dean confirmed, making it sound a little more concrete than a simple idea swirling around in oblivion. This could happen. They could do this.

Dean hardly focused on the TV as The Twilight Zone played out from the very first episode. He'd found a better, more satisfying activity that involved watching Castiel; the way he breathed, the way he sighed contently, everything about him. Dean was having a hard time ripping his attention away from the other boy, and he really didn't care if that made him sound slightly creepy or a massive sap. Castiel deserved his completely undivided attention. After all, it was hard for a person to ignore someone who was practically the other part of him. It was all so painfully obvious now. The electricity when they touched, the stolen glances and more longing stares. God, they were made for each other, it was just such a shame that it had taken this long for them to get here.

Reaching out, Dean dragged his fingertips tentatively over Castiel's cheekbone, not giving any explanation as to why he was doing it. Part of him knew that Castiel wouldn't question his movements either. Dean was curious, feeling out Castiel piece by piece. They'd touched before, but purely in a platonic fashion, at least, that's what they told themselves. Dean was helpless to stop the endless songs circling his mind, perfectly summing up everything he felt at this moment. One song stuck out and Dean found himself humming along to it gently, his fingertips still idly trailing over Castiel as if he was trying to convince himself that this was real and Castiel was more than an illusion which could dissolve at any moment.

 

_Wherever this goes, no matter how far_

_Baby, you are the song that’s written on my heart_

_Wherever we stand, wherever we fall_

_It don’t matter at all, cause I will be forever yours_

_From this moment till the day the curtains close_

_Wherever this goes_

 

His eyes were closed as he tried to focus on Castiel. His father wasn't here to control him any more. No longer did Dean have to worry about being labelled as broken, as he'd been so many times before. Dean would never be able to forget the look on his brother's face the one time Dean stood up to John Winchester. Though he hadn't been a terrible father, he was set in his ways. A smack soon told Dean that, no, Castiel is not pretty. To some extent, John had been right. Castiel wasn't pretty, he was more than that in so many ways. Cas was damn amazing and Dean sure as hell didn't deserve him. Were the angels lonely without their most beautiful celestial being amongst them? Dean didn't care at this moment in time, they'd finally accepted each other and their overwhelming feelings, so what if that made Dean a little selfish. He didn't want to share Cas with anyone. "Cas?" Dean asked all of a sudden, chewing down on his bottom lip. "Can I show you something?" They'd been watching TV (well sort of, Dean was still finding it hard to focus) for the best part of two hours in a companionable silence, and Dean just wanted to explain something. He didn't want to come up with an endless list of excuses as to why he refused to act upon his feelings for Castiel, but he wanted to give some clarification. Castiel deserved to know everything.

The look in Dean's eyes as he shuffled forward and pushed the duvet aside was a strange one. A jumble of emotions swirled behind them like a turbulent, stormy sea. Pain, regret, anger. Most of them aimed at his father. Dean refused to break eye contact with Castiel as he pulled the hem of his shirt up, reluctantly tearing his gaze away in order to pull it over his head and place it aside. With a deep breath, Dean moved so that his back was facing Castiel. It was mostly flawless, just a smattering of freckles, strong muscles flexing beneath the tanned skin. But near the base of his spine was a reminder of why Dean couldn't have Cas, or at least why he thought he couldn't have the blue-eyed boy. Dean took hold of Castiel's hand and led it to the slightly paler line of skin reaching across the width of Dean's back. A single stroke. One lash. Enough to set a boy straight. Dean shuddered as Castiel's fingertips made contact with his warm skin. He wanted to say a million things to Cas; I always wanted you, he said I couldn't have you, and I dreamed of you every night. Nothing would materialize on his tongue, except stupid, illogical sentences that made no sense in his own mind. Dean only managed to say one thing, hoping Cas would grasp what had happened here. "My father didn't approve of me listening to my heart," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

 

As a child, Castiel's family was more commanding about who he should and shouldn't be friends with. For example: When Castiel had first met Balthazar, everyone was highly supportive of the prospect of being the Brit's friend. This was, more than likely enough, because Balthazar's family was almost unrealistically rich. On top of all of that, everyone would try to set him up with a "mate" early on in his life. They'd already been pressuring him about what business he wanted to go into by the time he was nearing the end of elementary school. He didn't hate his entire family for that. In fact, he didn't hate his entire family at all. Yes, most of the members of Castiel's large family were more self-absorbed and looking out for themselves more than they were to anyone else, but at least he got Gabriel out of it. Gabe was, by far, the most rational person out of the Novaks. If you put that into perspective, it really says something about them as a whole. As for his other siblings... He could do without most of them. They were nice before Castiel began discovering his real identity, about how he wanted to be a writer and an investigator. How he wanted to put his imagination to use, despite the fact that he was "too smart" to apparently waste his time doing it. But, even though it made him happy, they rejected it. More of the same thing happened whenever he bravely came out-- he wasn't sure about why his teenage-self would have trusted them after all that they'd done in the past, but... Perhaps Gabriel had something to do with his confidence shooting through the roof. He could imagine so.

Castiel was never completely sure about why he liked this show so much. It was probably more of a chore than anything for Dean to be stuck here, watching this with him instead of something that could have come out after they were born, though he knew that Dean would verbalize his discontentment if need be. He wouldn't stay quiet just to make Castiel happy, hopefully because Dean knew that he would be the opposite of happy by doing something that Dean didn't necessarily want to do.

Maybe it would be easier to watch sub-par stand up comedian and not feel like he was being rude. He should have known by now that it wasn't about what they watched. Dean would still stare at him as if he was the most important person in the whole apartment complex-- or the world, for that matter. It was a little more than overwhelming to realize how long the staring alone had actually gone in, in almost the same exact manner as he was demonstrating it right now. The only thing that had changed was their body language, and the placement of their limbs in the first place. They fit together. They worked.

Dean then interrupted his train of thought, which he was fine with. He was here to listen and understand him, anyway. Naturally, he was eager to hear what it was that Dean had to say. Just as soon as he heard his own name come out of Dean's lips, he had reached over to pause the show. "Okay." He replied calmly to Dean's likely rhetorical question. He couldn't say that he wasn't anxious as to what it was that Dean was going to show him.

Sure, Castiel had seen Dean naked plenty of times. But, now that he's come to think about it, from what he was being presented now, his back was always somehow obscured from his own view. Or, maybe he would catch a glimpse of it at some point and not notice the mark. The very important scar. One that Castiel would never forgive' Dean's father for, ever. This was why they had even better of a chance of working out-- they were able to be this honest with one another. This was good. This was better than good. He lightly ran two of his fingertips across the different-feeling skin. Of course, the both of them appeared to be very flawed. This wasn't going to be their only conflict or bump in the road, as he could predict already. They were both noticeably emotionally and physically damaged people, he knew, but this just wasn't fair to Dean.

"I..." Words couldn't register right now, so Castiel just gently stood up, going through the effort to walk in front of Dean instead of making him turn around. He held the other man close, trying to rub his back comfortingly with his arms strung behind his shoulders. "It's okay. You're okay now." He didn't want to say I love you because he wanted Dean to learn to love himself first. Though it did seem so with a passerby's glance, or maybe with one of Dean's former one-night-stands, underneath Dean's rough exterior was just a man scared of hurting people around him. "It's okay." He murmured again. "I'm so proud of you, Dean... Thank you for telling me about this. None of what that man said to you pertaining to how this is or was negative was truthful;" Castiel assured the other man tenderly, full of care. "I love you."

 

Dean absorbed every bit of Castiel that he possibly could; the way he felt, the way he smelled. The Winchester wanted to remember every little bit of Castiel in perfect detail. He held Castiel's face in his hands, his calloused fingers brushing against his best friend's cheeks, looking at him the way Dean imagined the stars would look at the moon. "I love you too," Dean whispered back, bringing their lips together for a slow kiss. This is what it meant to be connected in every way possible. This is what it meant to feel complete. If, by some minuscule chance, some tragic event were to rip them apart now, they would have nothing. Perhaps the memories of sweet, quick kisses and one time when their bodies became one. Dean would fight tooth and nail to keep them together now, protecting that tie between them so that it may never be severed by anyone or anything.

Dean let his lips part as his tongue slipped into Castiel's mouth, a smooth caress of muscles and a spark of something that was impossible to name. Whatever it was, it was addictive. Dean's hand traveled to Castiel's hip, hitching up his shirt slightly as he began to lay backwards, hiding his scar, concealing the past and all its wicked secrets. For now, this was worth it. He brought Castiel down with him, allowing himself to bask in the warmth of having Castiel pressed up against his body, warming the very cockles of his heart. Dean's tongue continued to stroke over Castiel's, like they were engaged in an endless dance with no set footwork. They were letting the music guide them and the thump, thump, thump of their beating hearts, in sync with one another. Dean hummed as his fingers scrunched up in Castiel's hair, keeping the other close to him as they continued their passionate encounter. Dean kissed away from Castiel's mouth and to his jaw, sighing happily as the other man's hands ran over his torso. "Cas..." Dean breathed, knowing that this wouldn't end well if they stayed on the couch. Firstly, it wasn't very big so there was a strong chance of them tumbling off, and secondly, Dean didn't want this to escalate into anything too major, too soon. Dean pushed Castiel away from his face and gave him a genuine smile. "Thank you," he said in a voice so quiet that it was quite amazing if Cas heard it. Dean smiled again and leaned up to kiss Castiel's cheek.

Dean once sat in the Roadhouse with Jo, nursing a beer that they both weren't old enough to drink. She'd asked him one simple question, which he'd been unable to answer. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go? The answer never came to Dean, whether his thoughts were clouded by the copious amounts of alcohol or if he simply couldn't decide, well, that was a different matter. Even so, right now, Dean knew the answer.

He wouldn't go.

Right now, he was perfectly content, here.

"Hey, let me up." Dean urged as he managed to slide out from beneath his boyfriend, partner, best friend, whatever. Dean wandered towards the bedrooms again and disappeared behind his door, pulling his shirt back on as he went. Dean's room wasn't the tidiest of places, but he liked to keep it the way his mind was. Every item, just like every memory, was in its right place. Dean's vinyl collection by the window, stacked against the record player that Sam had bought him for his seventeenth birthday, then his pile of books beside that, all dog-eared and worn from where he'd thumbed the pages over and over again. His bed wasn't made, and was currently lacking a duvet which was on the couch, but it had his favorite pillow on the right and the one which he hoped would become Castiel's on the left. Dean knew where everything was and that was just the way he liked it.

The Winchester pulled open a drawer and tugged out exactly what he'd been looking for. It was dusty and looked as though it hadn't seen the light of day for decades, but Dean never had a use for it before. Now he had every excuse to use it. He carried it through to show Cas, a look of child-like glee on his face. "I want to remember this forever." Dean admitted as he blew the dust from the case and pulled out the video recorder he'd bought back at the beginning of high school. He never knew why he bought it, he just had. "I want to do this right." Dean turned it on, amazed that it still had any kind of charge left, and looked at the smaller Cas on the screen in front of him. He was just as beautiful on camera as he was in real life and Dean wondered how he'd gotten so damn lucky with this one. "No chick flick moments... But just us." Dean told Castiel, a glint of mischief in his eyes, crinkles round the corners. Dean hadn't felt like this in a while. It even took him a moment to figure out what the feeling was.

_Happiness._


End file.
